


Starstruck

by peanutbutterjelly-pie (Aleakim)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Actor Dean Winchester, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Crushes, Demisexual Castiel (Supernatural), Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Past Daphne Allen/Castiel, Pining, Reunions, Single Parent Castiel (Supernatural), Slow Burn, easy to skip if you're not into it, just watch out for the notes, smut will be restricted to separate chapters though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:47:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 46
Words: 180,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22791982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aleakim/pseuds/peanutbutterjelly-pie
Summary: -From the outside Castiel Novak looks like a regular guy: a good job, two teenage kids, a nice house and a crappy car he’s way too attached to.But there’s one thing no one knows about him: that, over twenty years ago, he used to live next to none other than Dean Winchester – back then a brash and loud-mouthed boy and nowadays a huge movie star and Hollywood’s sweetheart.Castiel never bothered to tell anyone about his childhood friend because frankly, who would believe him? Probably even Dean himself already forgot about his former awkward and weird neighbor, so Castiel seriously doesn’t see any point in mentioning the whole thing ever.But then an interview on national TV happens where Dean reveals way more about his past than ever before … and Castiel - as well as the rest of the world - suddenly realizes that he left a much bigger impact on Dean’s life than he originally thought.☆Updates every Tuesday!-
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4974
Kudos: 3059
Collections: The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	1. Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> So, we're finally here!
> 
> This story has been a long time in the making – I started it way over a year ago, dropped it again, picked it back up, buried it deep in my folders once more, and so on and so on. Real life, other writing projects, low creativity, work, sickness – everything was determined to intervene >.<
> 
> But slowly and steadily this story grew nonetheless. And then, by the end of last year, I had quite the spurt and lots of ideas suddenly ran through my head and I found myself writing and writing and writing.
> 
> Now about 40% of the story is already finished – enough to allow myself to have some backup and offer you a regular schedule. For now the updates will be on a weekly basis (I'm currently writing on chapter 10) and I hope I will catch up quite some time, but at some point it might change to a biweekly schedule. Time will tell if it's gonna happen or not :D
> 
> For now I'm really happy with the progress. Never before have I been so patient and “so good prepared”, so I'm kinda proud of myself here 😁
> 
> I love the entire premise since the day it suddenly popped up in my head, I have super fun with the characters and their dynamic with each other and I really hope you're gonna enjoy the whole thing!
> 
> Have fun with the first chapter ^^
> 
> +
> 
> **  
> And for more Destiel and SPN you're more than welcome to follow my[tumblr](http://peanutbutterjelly-pie.tumblr.com) :D  
> **
> 
> **  
> Also for additional news about updates, trivia or just simple ramblings specifically about this story you can take a look at my special fic tag[HERE](http://peanutbutterjelly-pie.tumblr.com/tagged/starstruck) :))  
> **
> 
> -

It's the worst moment of Castiel's life.

He knew this day would come.

He has known all along. Since the earliest second possible.

But it doesn’t make the pain any less real.

On the contrary, for some reason it lets it ache even more. He has no idea why that is — after all, he had enough time to prepare and “get used to it” —, however, the sheer force of all of this is almost too overwhelming all of a sudden.

He feels weak and pathetic, just like two months ago when Mary and John Winchester announced they were about to move away – four states over, to be precise –, naturally taking their two sons with them.

Castiel wasn’t surprised at the time. Ultimately, just a year before that, shortly after newly moving into the small house next to Castiel’s family, Dean Winchester introduced himself to the new neighbors with a proud smile and a nonchalant, “My mom is with the Air Force and we're traveling across the country _a lot_.”

So yes, Castiel knew right along that the whole spiel would be a temporary one. That the house besides theirs would be vacated soon enough again.

He had all the time to prepare.

Prepare to see the young family take their things out of their transient home and stash them into a moving van. Prepare to hear the rumble of the Impala for the very last time. Prepare to give the tightest hug imaginable.

Prepare to say goodbye to the best friend he ever had.

When the Winchesters moved into the house next door back then Castiel never expected to form such a personal bond with their eldest son. On first sight Dean appeared brash and loud, like a typical fourteen-year old boy, and Castiel felt no real desire to get to know him any closer. On the contrary, during the first weeks he tried almost everything to avoid the Winchester as good as possible.

But somehow Dean wormed himself into Castiel's life and showed him that next to the cocky attitude there was a kind soul with a sharp intellect and a big heart. Castiel had no chance escaping such a brightness for very long.

He was captured.

Captivated.

And now it hurts so much worse to let it go.

This life-changing Saturday morning is an annoyingly beautiful one. The sunshine and the chirping birds happily celebrating the day don't fit at all with Castiel's general mood. He feels sad and numb and would have preferred constant rain and the occasional thunder a thousand times more, matching the gloomy atmosphere way better.

He finds himself on the brink of tears the whole time he watches the Winchesters load their last belongings into the moving truck. They're used to the procedure at this point, a well-rehearsed team, and it takes no time at all for them to see the last of their stuff properly stored inside the vehicle.

Before he even knows what is happening both Mary and John say their goodbyes with kind smiles on their faces and little Sam, close to turning eleven years in a few weeks, pulls him in a bone-crushing hug that leaves Castiel breathless and makes him wonder how strong the boy will even become when he'll eventually be full-grown.

Castiel feels instantly devastated when he realizes he might never know.

“Bye, Cas,” Sam whispers into his shoulder. “It was awesome hanging out with you.”

And then he rushes off, like he can't take all the farewells anymore he had to endure since basically his whole life. Like he only has the strength to live with them by making it as short and painless as manageable and never look back.

Castiel can't say he blames him.

So he simply sighs as he watches Sam climb into the family's car – a Chevy Impala called _Baby_ , as he was told by Dean multiple times before – and tries desperately not to think about the cruel truth that this might well be the very last time he would ever see him.

“Sorry about Sammy,” Dean picks up his voice right next to Castiel, his posture unusually tense as he watches his younger brother melt into the backseat and put some headphones on, as though eager to tune out the world around him. “He’s always so damned emotional.”

He sounds like his normal self. Calm, a little cocky. A slight scoff in his tone.

But his eyes … Castiel has never seen them like this before. Usually they spark with life, bright and so very colorful, but now they appear dull. Gray.

He obviously hasn’t slept much the night before and Castiel feels the almost unbearable urge to pull him into a tight embrace and offer him all the warmth and comfort he needs.

“Dean …” he whispers, so many emotions wavering in his voice.

His chest clenches uncomfortably while he asks himself how he could ever believe he might be capable of staying collected and composed in this moment. He seriously thought he could hold it together, he even practiced his speech in front of a mirror like a being unable to act fully human without exercises first.

And now they are here and he’s on the brink of tears.

How the hell did this happen?

“Cas, buddy,” Dean says, turning toward his friend. “Remember, we promised each other not to cry? Don’t fail me here, man.”

Dean’s tone is still steady. Allegedly unaffected.

But his face tells a completely different story. His red-rimmed eyes stare at Castiel with that intense gaze he grew to love and cherish over the last months. Castiel always had a habit to stare too intensely at people and usually everyone around him got awkward in his presence very fast, but for some reason Dean Winchester never seemed to mind. On the contrary, at some point he started to meet Castiel’s gaze, his eyes gleaming intently, and the atmosphere surrounding them got charged every single time.

Castiel will honestly miss this. He is pretty sure that nobody will ever look at him the same way Dean always did.

It feels like a loss way greater than anything he ever experienced.

“I remember my promise,” Castiel confesses, his voice shaky. “And I’m sorry for disappointing you …”

“No, no, no, Cas,” Dean is quick to jump in, reaching out and squeezing Castiel’s wrist in a gentle grip. “Don’t apologize, it’s okay.”

Castiel presses his lips into a thin line, unable to meet Dean’s eyes. “I’m just … it’s just so much … I wasn’t expecting …”

And then he finds himself inside Dean’s arms, strong and safe and so unbelievably sad. He inhales his friend’s scent, so achingly familiar by now, and sniffs right into Dean’s shirt.

Thankfully Dean doesn’t seem to mind one bit as he pulls Castiel even closer. “I know, Cas, I know,” he whispers, his voice hoarse. “But don’t forget – I’m gonna write. All the time. You’re gonna get sick of me, faster than you can blink.”

Castiel snorts at the mere idea. “Impossible.”

Dean falls silent after that and just keeps holding Castiel in his embrace. Like ever letting go is not in the cards right now.

Castiel is fairly aware that the hug lasts way longer than strictly necessary, bordering some edge he’s not sure how to interpret, but this might be the last time in a very long while — or maybe even the last time ever — with Dean wrapping him in his tight arms and Castiel will be damned if he didn’t use any second of that.

“I’ll never forget you, okay?” Dean promises, his warm breath brushing Castiel’s ear. “Never forget you and our tree house and your stupid books and dumb sarcasm and your blue eyes …”

He breaks off as a sound escapes his throat which almost sounds like a sob.

“I could _never_ forget you.” It’s spoken so lowly Castiel isn’t even sure he was supposed to hear it.

And then it’s all over.

Dean pulls off and shoots Castiel one last watery smile before abruptly turning on his heels and rushing over to the Impala to join Sam in the backseat.

And soon enough they are gone.

That day Castiel cries for the very first time in a long while.

  
  


\-----

  
  


As promised letters are fluttering into his house almost constantly soon after.

They talk about everything, just like before, and sometimes Castiel even manages to forget that they are thousands of miles between them now. It’s easy and carefree. It seems that Dean actually even seems able to open up more in these letters than he ever achieved in person. He talks about his fears and his doubts like never before and Castiel cherishes every single word written.

In a way it’s wonderful.

And yet unbelievably heartbreaking.

Because they _are_ thousands of miles away from each other and even the occasional phone call doesn’t make the pain go away. On the contrary, seeing Dean’s inner thoughts written down, hearing his voice over a static phone connection, it actually makes it all worse.

Castiel doesn’t want to feel that way, he wants to enjoy every single bit he gets from Dean, but it’s getting harder and harder.

  
  


\-----

  
  


So when eventually the letters and phone calls tone down and at some point stop entirely, Castiel feels both relieved and absolutely miserable.

He isn’t surprised because life happens and Dean is way too much of a free spirit to get hung up on an old friend from the past he’ll probably never see again.

He deserves to look into the future.

They both do.

So instead of feeling sorry for himself Castiel is just grateful that such an amazing person as Dean was part of his life, even just for a short while. Dean taught him to crawl more out of his shell, to be open to new things, and Castiel can’t thank him enough for that.

Dean Winchester will always be in his heart.

  
  


\-----

  
  


It’s many years later when Castiel sees Dean again.

In the meantime a lot had happened. He graduated high school, went to college, joined the workforce, got married, adopted two kids, ended up divorced, got an amazing job offer, moved into a whole new town and bought a cute little house right on the edge of a forest to make a home for himself and his family.

So on that very day, with five-year old Claire gripping his fingers and being absolutely dedicated to the ice cream cone in her hands, suddenly seeing himself confronted with Dean Winchester’s face was about the last thing Castiel expected on a sunny Thursday afternoon.

Or _at all._

But there he is.

Right on the cover of a very shiny and glamorous looking magazine.

Accompanied by the headline, “ _Dean Winchester – Hollywood’s new sweetheart and most promising newcomer”_!

Huh.

Well.

It seems that Castiel will see a lot more of Dean in the future than he ever anticipated.

Life seriously is funny sometimes.


	2. Lucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, guys, today has been day #6 of carnival in Cologne and I'm actually not sure if I died somewhere along the way or not >.< At least it feels like my mind left my body a long time ago.
> 
> Nonetheless I couldn't leave you hanging, of course. I can't guarantee for any accuracy because tho it was actually yesterday!me who edited this chapter and not totally-exhausted-today!me, you can't really trust that chick either! Carnival just has that effect, no matter whether it's the first day or the last one ;p
> 
> So if you find any spelling or grammar errors, you can totally blame the city of Cologne for this! You're even welcome to send them a strong letter or something xD
> 
> And now, without further ado, (hopefully) have fun ^^
> 
> -

It’s cold outside.

Freezing cold, to be exact.

And yet it didn’t stop Castiel from leaping into his gym clothes very early in the morning and go for his usual run. A few years back, when he reluctantly started this ritual, he might have shied away from such low temperatures and stayed in his comfortable bed for another hour, but since then Castiel developed some kind of iron will, only crippled by heavy rainstorms, blizzards or massive accumulations of snow.

But a little bit of cold?

Yeah, that can’t stop him anymore.

So he runs and runs, over the scenic pathways behind his house, his favorite trails since forever, and though his face freezes up very quickly the rest of his body is warm and sweaty and not at all impressed by the weather.

At the beginning he hated it. Hated everything about it with a burning passion, actually.

But he felt overwhelmed by a lot of things back then (his divorce, the question of child custody, his parents being overall absolutely difficult) and he just needed to let off some steam. And since he never really fancied gyms or anything remotely similar he one day decided to take up running.

To run away from his problems. Or maybe to run towards a new chapter of his life.

He had no real idea at the time. Actually, he still hasn't that one figured out yet.

But yeah, when he first started this ritual he hated it. He's always been physically active all his life (a little yoga here, some pilates there, a few lessons of taekwondo on the side), but jogging felt like something else. Strenuous, repetitive, time-consuming.

Nowadays Castiel can't even really remember why he stuck to it nonetheless. Perhaps because of a little voice in his head refusing to just give up.

To see this through.

At some point it changed. When Castiel eventually realized he started to progress, how he didn't get out of breath so quickly, how he consistently managed to deal with longer trails, it felt like a switch had been turned. He stopped seeing it as a task, a personal kind of torture for his body, and started to view it as something to enjoy. The sensation of almost flying over the ground, the beauty of nature surrounding them, the quiet of the early morning.

Soon enough it became a steady ritual he wouldn't miss for the world.

It clears his mind, wakes up his body and gets him ready for his workday.

And he really needs that before facing bureaucracy, feisty teenagers, parents who _always_ know everything better than anybody else, and that one joker that constantly tries to steal his parking spot.

Once again it'll be an adventurous day and those forty minutes running through the forest are going to be the last quiet moments in a while.

So he cherishes them immensely.

Soon enough though he unfortunately has to turn back if he actually wants to make it on time. So he sighs deeply and eventually takes the next turn towards home, already spotting his house's facade in the distance through the leafless trees.

As soon as he steps inside he instantly rips off most of his layers, not very keen on suffering from a heatstroke in late February, and carries them to the laundry room right away. In the past he oftentimes just dropped them in the foyer to collect them at a later time, but when Claire started to complain about the mess and give him the stink eye every single time she witnessed her father just leaving his clothes lying somewhere around the house where they were not exactly supposed to be Castiel quickly changed his behavior to appease her.

After all, you don’t want to be on Claire’s bad side.

It’s a terrifying position to be.

After dutifully pushing his clothes into the hamper and promising himself to wash at least a load after coming back from work this afternoon he makes a quick stop at the kitchen door, the delicious smell of pancakes luring him in.

“Pancakes?” he asks with a big grin. “What’s the occasion?”

Claire, standing at the stove and just being in the process of flipping one of the goodies in the pan in front of her, shoots him a brief look over her shoulder. “Just woke up early and thought what the hell?”

Castiel casts a glance at Jack who is sitting at the kitchen table near the window and looks absolutely blissed out as he shoves one of the pancakes into his mouth. It seems that whatever might await him today, his morning at least is utterly perfect.

“Take a shower and join us,” Claire orders, her voice leaving no room for any kind of protest. “You stink and the food won’t be warm forever.”

Castiel rolls his eyes, but refrains from objecting. He’s surely aware he doesn’t smell like flowers right now. Even despite the coconut body lotion he bought by mistake the other day and immediately fell in love with.

Thankfully Castiel is nowadays a master expert in taking quick showers — after all, he doesn’t have the time to indulge himself every single morning after his run — and he finds himself joining his kids at breakfast less than five minutes later, squeaky clean and already dressed for work.

“I really don’t get why you’re torturing yourself every day like that.” Claire shakes her head in disbelief as she takes place at her usual seat next to Jack and grabs one pancake from the top of the huge pile. “You hate yourself or something?”

Castiel chuckles. “You’re asking me the same question at least twice a week.”

“And I fail to understand it, at least twice a week.”

Castiel merely smiles in response and Claire huffs, clearly deeming him a lost cause.

For the next five minutes they get lost in the unexpectedly rich breakfast and Castiel once again can't help feeling blessed. When he and Daphne back in the days talked about children and adoption his inner eye didn't automatically project birthdays and vacations and graduations and all the other important milestones in a kid's life but rather scenes like this. A peaceful breakfast, all of them together. Serenity.

So when Castiel held Claire into his arms for the very first time almost fifteen years ago he instantly started to imagine them sitting at a table every single morning, every single day, and enjoying both a nice meal and excellent company. Castiel just knew that no matter what might happen everything would be alright as long as they had quiet moments like this.

And that surely didn't change when Jack joined them two years later. On the contrary, Castiel's mind rejoiced at the thought of yet another person sitting at that table and eating breakfast.

And he feels like the luckiest person alive that his wish came true in the end.

“Any special plans for the weekend?” Castiel eventually asks, breaking the silence.

Claire doesn't look up from her plate as she says, “I wanted to watch the new Dean Winchester movie on Saturday.”

Castiel raises his brow. “Again? You already watched it twice, if I remember correctly.”

There's a visible tinge on Claire's cheek while she continues to avoid their gazes. “So what? It's a good movie.”

Fair enough, she does have a point. The story about a lonesome man road tripping the country and in the end, after a lot of ordeal and trial and meeting the most eccentric people, finding his place in life surely isn't the most original plot, but they managed to make it fairly captivating and kind of fresh in its own way. Not to mention that Dean's performance is absolutely compelling, as always.

It still feels strange, seeing him on the big screen and watching him play all these different roles, and Castiel isn't sure he will ever get used to it. But he's more than prepared to enjoy the ride nonetheless.

“So yeah, it's a good movie,” Claire repeats, obviously eager to make her point. “And Kaia hasn't seen it yet, so …”

Castiel can't help leaning in, now highly intrigued. “So Kaia is accompanying you?” he wonders. “Is it a date?”

Claire flinches at the term and turns beet-red as she stares her father down. “No, _God_! We're just watching a movie, for Christ's sake!”

Castiel hums. “And I figure you'll grab something to eat as well?”

Claire grits his teeth, clearly knowing where this is going, but unable to lie right into his face. “Yeah,” she agrees reluctantly. “But only because the diner is right next to the theater and it's _really_ good, so it would be stupid not to pay it a visit when we're already there …”

Castiel hums some more. “Dinner and a movie – sounds like a date to me.”

Claire scoffs while Jack stifles a laugh.

“ _Dad_!”

“Kaia is a very lovely girl,” Castiel points out. “I wouldn't mind seeing more of her in the future.”

She's only been to their house a few times, mainly for working with Claire on various school projects or studying together for tests, and Castiel certainly enjoyed her company. She is sweet, but also doesn't shy away from voicing her opinion and butt some heads in the process. And she also never got weird about staying at her principal's house, like lots of other of Claire's classmates.

So yes, Castiel certainly wouldn't be against having her around more.

 _Especially_ because she makes Claire smile in way he would love to see more often.

“You're both so _ugh_ ,” Claire growls, glaring at her father and brother as menacingly as she's able to so early in the morning. “Just shut up and eat, we're gonna be late for school.”

“So what?” Castiel asks with a lopsided grin. “Jack's school is right around the corner, so he seriously doesn't have to hurry. And if you were about to arrive late at the high school, well, I'm the principal, I'll write you an excuse.”

He smiles widely at her, feeling fairly proud of himself. Jack, at least, shoots him an encouraging thumbs up.

Claire, however, merely groans. “Damn, I can't wait to get my driver's license and finally drive my own car to school. It's bad enough that I have to turn up with the freaking _principal_ every single day.”

“Well, that's my job,” Castiel points out, shrugging his shoulders. “And we will _not_ drive with two separate cars to the same destination. That would be a waste of gas, not to mention an absolute offense to the environment.”

Claire rolls her eyes. “Then how about you just jog to school, so I can be in the car all on my own?”

Castiel opens his mouth and instantly closes it again as he tilts his head to one side. He's actually never considered that possibility before, but she actually does make a good point. The distance to the high school is longer than his usual morning route, but he could either up his work-out or maybe even switch to biking from time to time (because in the long run his joints would be quite grateful).

“You know what? That's actually not a bad idea,” he admits. “I could use the showers in the school and keep some spare clothes there –”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Claire interrupts, waving him off. “Come on now, I don't wanna be late. I have to compare a few notes with Kaia before my first period.”

Then she rushes off, clearly eager to collect her things.

Castiel, meanwhile, shares a meaningful look with his son.

“It's _totally_ a date,” Jack states.

Castiel smirks. “Yes, it is.”

  
  


\-----

  
  


“Dean, we’re late. _Very_ late.”

Dean groans in frustration as he crawls deeper underneath his couch, using the flashlight on his phone to light the dark corners, and totally ignores Charlie nudging his legs impatiently.

“We’re gonna miss our flight,” she complains, her mouth probably turned into the most impressive pout as she looks down at the lower half of Dean that’s currently visible to her and most likely considers kicking his ass real hard the next second.

“I can’t find my stupid keys,” Dean growls, at least for the twentieth time since she arrived at his place a while ago. “They’re more important than some damned flight.”

“Oh sure.” Charlie scoffs loudly. “This has _nothing_ whatsoever to do with you still being terrified of flying, am I right? It’s just your keys that conveniently got lost at the most perfect time.”

“Exactly.”

“Bullshit!”

Dean snorts, but can’t really argue with her ‘cause though he didn’t plan for his keys to disappear he’s surely glad to have an excuse not to head to the airport right now. Even the mere thought of those metal death machines makes him shudder all over.

It’s always torture, every single time, and that’s why he’s still mostly driving all over the country, happy to sit in his beloved Baby and spend days on the road instead of a few hours in an airplane. Unfortunately flying is not always avoidable in his line of work, especially with engagements overseas, but he tries to keep it at a minimum as good as possible.

“I don’t even know why Benny booked me on a flight anyway,” Dean grumbles into his carpet, cursing his manager for flipping him the finger in such a way. “L.A. isn’t _that_ far. I could’ve easily taken Baby and drive there.”

“First of all, Los Angeles is on the other side of the fucking continent, so ‘ _not that far away’_ seems a bit of a stretch here, Winchester,” Charlie objects, her eye roll actually audible. “And second of all, you would’ve missed the housewarming party for the new extension of Sonny’s Boy’s Home. The one _you_ sponsored, by the way. I can’t imagine you wanting to disappoint Sonny and all those boys of his.”

Alright, she’s got a point there, he reluctantly has to admit.

He met Sonny a few years ago and instantly felt eager to support his project in any way possible, financially as well as with actual man power. Since then he’s been over there regularly, switching between being a normal guy just fixing some leaky pipes or impersonating the Hollywood star for the occasional camera to raise awareness. And about half a year ago he donated a large sum for much needed renovations and a building’s extension which had been finished two weeks prior.

Dean wouldn’t have missed celebrating with Sonny and all of those kids for the world.

Even if in the end that meant he wouldn’t have enough time to travel to his next appointment by car and now has to rely on a fucking plane.

Dammit.

“So _come on,_ Winchester!” Charlie claps into her hands impatiently. “Get your ass into gear. That plane won’t wait for us.”

“Then we’ll just take the next one …”

“So you’re gonna be late for your interview? Yeah, no way, man!”

“Do I have to remind you that you’re not my manager?”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m your boss!”

Dean rolls his eyes. When he hired her back in the days her official job title actually used to be ‘personal assistant’, but since then she took the liberty of giving herself promotion after promotion, becoming PR adviser, social media controller, sister, mother, boss above all bosses, and somewhere along the way the last bit of authority he had over her slipped steadily through Dean’s fingers.

Unfortunately she knows exactly how lost he’d be without her. Over the years she did everything in her power to become absolutely irreplaceable and to Dean’s utter chagrin she’s been completely successful with that.

“You wanna end up in L.A. all late and stressed out of your mind?” Charlie wonders. “You still remember you’re gonna be interviewed by Leslie Marks, right? If you’re not up to your game, she’ll use your weak defenses and lure out all kinds of personal answers out of you. Especially about your love life and stuff.”

Dean groans at the reminder while he abandons the darkness underneath his couch and struggles into an upright position. “There’s no love life to speak of anyway …”

Yeah, not even by a long shot.

Sadly, though, that never stopped any journalists before.

“You really wanna talk about your traumatic breakup with Lisa and how you’re still madly in love with her?”

Dean scoffs. “First of all, that was _years_ ago. I don’t understand why people are still riding that one.” He shakes his head. “And second of all, our breakup was absolutely amicable and I’m surely not in love with her.”

A tiny voice inside his head wonders whether he ever really was.

“ _I_ know that,” Charlie reminds him. “But it doesn’t make for a good story.”

Dean grimaces. By now he should actually be used to the press and the way they love to spin an innocent tale around to turn into a freaking scandal, but for some reason he never really got the hang of it.

“There are already rumors about you and your new co-star,” Charlie states as he mercilessly drags Dean onto his feet and dusts off his shirt to make him look moderately presentable at least. “And rumors about you and the waitress you smiled at the other day. And since you came out naturally everyone is depicting every single male person you ever interacted with in the past. There’s a _huge_ pool they’re fishing in, even if it’s made out of lies and half-truths.”

Dean pulls a face. Of course he isn’t surprised by all of that – particularly after he decided to make his bisexuality public a few months ago –, but it still feels invasive and uncomfortable and he can’t help hating this part of the business. Thankfully so far he managed to keep his family more or less completely out of it, at least, although sometimes he wonders if it’s only a matter of time in the end before they see themselves in the bright spotlight as well.

“God, I hate this,” he growls. “Why did I go into acting again?”

“Because you're an idiot?” Charlie suggests.

Dean grimaces hard at her, but he can't exactly contradict her on that.

“Just look at the bright side,” Charlie says with a wide grin. “All these sexy people you've allegedly dated – _damn_. The other day I read a little article about you having 'suspiciously intense eye contact' with Idris Elba. And I mean I'm all for the ladies, but _yummy_ _alert_.”

Dean groans, once again hating this life. “Yet again, not true,” he points out. “But, for a change, I actually would've liked it to be. Because, duh, _Idris Elba_.”

Unfortunately Dean only stammered himself through an awkward greeting when he met the guy for the very first time a few weeks ago, probably blushing like a teenager the entire time. Far away from any 'intense eye contact'.

“But all the rest, _ugh_!” Dean shakes his head. “You know how intimidating I look with all these supermodels, Hollywood actresses and hot bodybuilders I allegedly hooked up with? No one dares to even approach me at this point.”

At least nobody he would actually like to approach him.

“Aw, honey, don't worry, you'll find your Prince or Princess Charming at some point,” Charlie assures him as she pets his head.

Dean, meanwhile, only snorts. He gave up that pipe dream a long time ago. For now he can only hope for a quiet life someday and not waste his time with imagining anything more.

“And by the way, I'm not in the habit of looking at guys' junk areas, but that bulge in your jeans are either your supposedly lost keys or you're _way_ happier than you have every right to be right now,” Charlie says, gesturing downwards with a heavy sigh.

Dean follows her lead and sure enough, she is right. Again.

“Why am I such a mess, Charlie?” he moans.

“Because otherwise you wouldn't need me,” Charlie answer flippantly while she simultaneously drags him toward the door. “C'mon, your flight is waiting.”

“Ugh –”

“I'm gonna hold your hand the whole time.”

Dean narrows his eyes. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Even faced with the risk of someone noticing and the papers creating a fairy tale about you being my girlfriend and one true love?”

Charlie smirks absolutely shamelessly.

“First of all, my very lesbian ass will be unaffected by any kinds of rumors,” she explains. “And second, I _am_ your one true love.”

Dean can't help a laugh. “Yeah, you kinda are.”

And he is surely the luckiest guy in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just a few quick glimpses into their everyday lives :D  
> I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> And in the next chapter: STUFF will go down!  
> Capital letters and everything.
> 
> See you then :)


	3. The Interview

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are again :D
> 
> This chapter is actually the very first thing I wrote for this fic, way over one and a half years ago. For a long time it honestly was THE ONLY thing existing of this story idea and for quite a while I really thought that would be all there ever was. Just this one scene. The very first concrete words instead of the sentences flying through my head.
> 
> I can't even remember when I started to let this story grow further. Or why.
> 
> Just one day I added another scene, then another, and another, and so on, and now we're here xD Part of me still thinks I'm dreaming this whole thing up somehow.
> 
> I hope you have fun with it ;D
> 
> -

It's exactly 9:26 PM when Castiel finds himself yawning so loudly it easily could have woken up the dead.

He lowers the book in his hands, rubs his eyes and grumbles underneath his breath. When the hell did he become such an old man? It wasn't all that long ago he was able to sit in his favorite armchair right in front of their small fireplace and read a captivating book way past midnight. Once or twice he even went through an all-nighter, despite it being a workday the next morning.

Okay, granted, not exactly the glamorous life of a party animal or whatever, but for Castiel's standards that's been all kinds of badass.

But now he wonders if he should just go to bed and sleep for ten hours straight.

“Wow, you're ready for retirement yet?” Claire wonders, snickering into her hand as she watches him with a twinkle in her eyes.

“I'm not sure I'm quite there yet,” he points out while a brief smile flickers over his features. “What about you? Sitting here, on a Friday night. Spending time with your father although you could be out there and spread your wings, like young people use to do.”

She snorts. “I just happen to be in the same room as you, that's all.”

About an hour ago she walked into the living room, literally dropped onto the couch and sprawled on it like a cat before turning her gaze to the tablet in her hands and getting lost in the world of the internet. She hadn't uttered a single word the entire time apart from a few low chuckles here and there, apparently amused by whatever had captured her attention at that moment, and they both coexisted in a bubble of silence.

It's actually not an unusual picture but quite a normal occurrence. She is a lot like Castiel in that regard – happy to get sucked into fantastical stories or internet games or whatever, but also being quite content with some company by her side. It did happen more than once that they shared the same space and didn't talk with each other for hours.

It's clearly not Jack's forte – he's asking way too many questions about basically anything to stay silent for very long – and it surely weirded Daphne out back in the days, so Castiel and Claire were the ones who found themselves drawn to one another in the end when they wanted to be both alone and by someone's side at the same time.

The only other person Castiel was able to manage such a sort of quiet peace had been Dean at the time.

Nobody else never really understood.

“Beside, what am I supposed to do out there?” Claire asks with a scoff as she nods toward the window displaying a huge amount of rain filling up the air. “I'd rather stay dry.”

Castiel merely smiles and just thanks the Gods that both of his kids don't succumb to any kind of pressure to go partying every single moment of every single weekend. They're content to stay at home more often than not and they're not shy about admitting this to others. Sometimes Castiel wonders whether he infected his children with his introverted ways and whether he should encourage them to open up more, but then again they are happy and he knows they're both independent enough to change something about their lives if that wouldn't be the case anymore.

“You mind if I turn on the TV for a bit?” Claire asks suddenly, jerking him out of his reverie. Castiel blinks a few times and eventually finds himself nodding absently.

The TV is a little bit hidden in a nook from his point of view, so he only notices the dim light and hears people talking. Castiel automatically tunes them out as he leans back in his armchair and seriously contemplates just crawling into bed despite the not so late hour of the night and accepting the fact that he's getting old.

But then he hears a voice coming through the TV's speakers.

A very familiar voice.

Dean.

Castiel can't help himself, despite all the time that has passed he instantly leaps to his feet, drawn to that voice, drawn to that presence. Dean always had this effect on him – considering back then Castiel actually was determined to stay away from the boy and in the end found himself with a best friend instead, no real idea how that even had happened – and Castiel is just unable to shake it off, even though he hasn't seen or spoken to him for half of an eternity.

Claire merely shoots him an amused smile as he sits down on the couch next to her. She doesn't know about the real circumstances, has no actual clue why her father takes such an interest in that specific actor while all the other times he can barely be bothered to remember most celebrity names. She probably deems him a hopeless middle-aged guy having a little infatuation with Dean Winchester and most likely finds the whole thing both hilarious and sort of adorable.

Castiel considered more than once to tell her the truth, to come clean about his past and his history with Dean, but he kept it to himself for so long he doubts he would even be capable of pressing out a single sound. It's way in the past, it still hurts to even think about it sometimes, and it would only raise uncomfortable questions Castiel isn't sure he could answer.

So he decides to stay silent, as always, and trains his focus on the screen.

It's not one of Dean's movies, as Castiel originally thought, but some sort of Late Night Show. At least there are bright lights, a modern looking studio, a seemingly enthusiastic audience, and Dean sitting on a green couch next to a blonde woman who appears as though she couldn't be any happier than in this very moment while she reads a text out loud from a note in her hands, from the sound of it the summary of Dean's latest movie.

Dean, meanwhile, merely smiles, apparently totally relaxed as if he'd lounging on his sofa at home all by himself instead of in front of who-knows-how-many viewers, and overall looks absolutely striking, like usual. Castiel has no idea how he does that, appearing so effortlessly handsome and turning a simple jeans and blue shirt into something amazing, but Dean sure as hell is an expert in that.

“So Dean,” the interviewer – a woman named Leslie, as a quick fade-in tells him – says as she leans closer, apparently eager to decrease the distance between them. “Before we're about to talk about your newest project, we would like you to answer a few fan questions we collected right before the show. I hope you don't mind.”

Dean smiles brilliantly at her. “Of course not. I'm always here for my fans.”

And they get started right away. Leslie fires off a couple of typical questions, most of them lighthearted and funny, and Dean plays his charms like a pro. He beams, he jokes, he makes some witty comments, and soon enough the audience is putty in his hands. He certainly knows how to handle all the attention.

Castiel glances sideways and notices that his daughter isn't far behind. She's totally enthralled in Dean and his way with people and Castiel can't say he terribly minds. She got herself a good role model.

“Oh, this one is _really_ great,” Leslie's voice suddenly jerks him in out his thoughts. She looks at the card in her hand, apparently a new question ready to be known to the world. “I can't wait what you have to say to this one.”

Dean smirks. “If this is about my phone number, no can do.”

Some people in the audience groan in disappointment at this and everyone has a good laugh about it while Dean winks at them, obviously having a great time. Castiel likes to see him like this, just comfortable and easy-going. That's the boy he remembers and it's nice to know he's still there, even after everything he experienced in the last few years.

“No, it’s not about your phone number, don't worry,” Leslie answers, chuckling. “It's about crushes.”

Dean tilts his head. “Crushes?”

“Yes.” Leslie glances at the question in her hand and reads, “ _Tell us about your first real crush. And we don't mean an I-had-weird-feelings-about-the-cookie-monster crush,_ _but your first_ _heart-and-soul-I-can't-sleep-at-night-because-I'm-constantly-thinking-of-them crush_.”

Dean lifts his eyebrows in surprise, apparently not prepared to be confronted with something like this. “Wow,” he says, whistling. “That's a heavy question.”

“And a very amazing one, don't you think?” Leslie addresses the audience who immediately starts to cheer and clap like crazy, obviously more than eager to hear the reponse. “We all can't wait!”

Dean smiles at her, but the easiness from before suddenly starts to fade a little. It's not instantly noticeable, but Castiel has always been quite skilled in reading Dean's body language, even when they were both young, and he spots the shift right away.

“Um, okay,” Dean says, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully. “I wasn't quite prepared to go back _that_ far. I'm an old man, guys, my memory is really fuzzy.”

For a moment it seems like he's about to evade the question by offering some good-natured jokes and using his unique charm again, so that eventually in the end nobody in the studio would even realize they'd been distracted. He's done this on multiple occasions before, especially when asked about his family and private life, and it appears like he's on the verge of repeating his proven tactic once more.

But then something changes. Castiel can't exactly tell what provokes this all of a sudden, but his features become firm like he made a decision.

“Well, it was _a long time ago_ ,” he says, emphasizing every single word. “Back when I was young and sweet and fourteen.”

Castiel lifts a brow in surprise.

Fourteen?

That was the age Dean lived next door to him. So he had his first serious crush when Castiel actually interacted with him on a daily basis and he never noticed?

 _How_ did he miss that?

“Fourteen?” Leslie coos at him, probably imagining bright freckles and rosy cheeks. “You probably were the cutest little fella, am I right?”

Dean laughs. “I was a menace,” he counters. “Loud and cheeky. Puberty hit me hard, you know? My poor parents.” He laughs at the reminder. “Everyone expected me to stay insufferable for _years_ to come. I think my poor mom prayed twice as hard during that time.”

Leslie grins at the picture. “And? Did you stay a brat?”

Dean scoffs. “No, thank God.” He pauses for a second, his gaze drifting far away, as though he's looking straight to his past. “Do you know the feeling when you meet someone and _everything_ changes? When you become a better person, _want_ to become a better person, just because they are in your life?”

Leslie studies him for a moment, apparently surprised by the earnestness in his tone, before she eventually nods. “Your crush, huh?”

Dean lowers his gaze. “Yeah,” he admits. “He … well, he had quite the influence on me, to be honest.”

Leslie lifts an eyebrow. “ _He_?”

The camera switches to the audience for a moment, showing a bunch of curious people leaning forward in their seats, apparently very keen to hear what Dean is about to say next. Dean's bisexuality hasn't been public for very long and his fans are obviously intrigued to learn his first real love had been someone of the male gender.

“Yeah, _he_ ,” Dean agrees, smiling shyly. “He was … well, it might be a terrible cliché, but he was the boy from next door.”

Castiel freezes at those words.

Wait, _what_?

 _WHAT_?

Leslie, in the meantime, chuckles amused. “So you had a crush on the boy from next door? How very sweet.”

Dean huffs a laugh. “Well, what can I say?” He shrugs his shoulders. “He was different from anyone I've ever met before.”

“How so?”

Dean hesitates for a moment, looking a little like he's worried he said too much already, but eventually his features soften and his eyes get this faraway look. “He was just … I dunno, I can't really explain it. He just had this … _special something_ , y'know?” Dean seems at a serious loss how to describe that person. “Most boys his age were loud and abrasive and into sports and girls and stuff, but he – he was totally happy sitting underneath an oak tree and reading his books all day. It seemed he knew everything about everything, from rocket science to art history. You could basically ask him anything, he'd have an answer for you. I bet even today he's better than google.”

He smiles softly at that. “He never took anyone's crap. One day he confronted some bullies in our neighborhood who were teasing a little girl and though he was outnumbered six to one he still stood there without even the faintest hint of fear. He was just so badass, only with his words and the most intense stare in the history of stares – no one really dared to mess with him. Including myself.” He laughs aloud. “He always rolled his eyes at me when I said or did something stupid, but nonetheless he invited me over to sit at that tree with him and talk about pollution and the evolution of giraffes and whatnot. Like I said, he knew almost everything. Well, apart from pop culture references. I was always on top about that one.”

He grins proudly, obviously fairly lost in his memory. Once again the camera changes its focus to the audience for a moment and now everyone appears on the edge of their seats, hanging on Dean's lips, like they can't have missing even a single word.

Dean, however, doesn't really seem to notice the rapt attention and unusual silence in the studio as he continues, “He was so patient, with me and my sometimes stupid behavior. And he was so kind to my brother, always talking with him about nerdy stuff. Not only for my sake but because he obviously genuinely liked my little baby bro. And he was _gorgeous_ , you have no idea. The smile, the hair and _especially_ the eyes. I mean, they were _so blue_ , I had no idea such a shade even existed, and I dreamed about them every night for so long –”

Suddenly he halts and honest to God blushes, obviously realizing that he's not alone in his head but rather sharing his very private memories with an huge audience right there in the studio as well as in front of their TVs at home.

“Um …” He blinks a few times, like he's got some trouble finding back into the present. “Yeah … uh, like I said, he was great.”

And he leaves it with that.

The TV studio stays quiet for a long moment, as though everyone is rather shell-shocked that they're seriously privileged enough to experience such a vital moment in Dean Winchester's life, and Castiel isn't far behind.

He feels like someone punched him in the face. Hard.

This can't be true, right?

Dean honestly couldn't be talking about –?

“You know, Dad,” Claire suddenly chimes in, jerking Castiel out of his thoughts, “It actually sounds like he's talking about you.”

She laughs at the thought while Castiel loses his last brain functions.

“Can you imagine, _you_ are Dean Winchester's type!” She shakes her head in disbelief. “Maybe we should set you up. You'd make a cute couple.”

Castiel doesn't know what to say or even think, so he stays silent and watches Dean turning his charm back on and joking around with the host and his fans.

He seems like before, relaxed and happy. As if nothing had happened.

But there is still a lingering blush on his cheeks. It's not the most prominent, but it definitely exists and it doesn't go away for the rest of the show.

And Castiel … well, he _really_ needs a drink.


	4. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya, guys!
> 
> Here we go again :D
> 
> I can't thank you enough for all your lovely comments and kudos and fic recs, I'm just so overwhelmed by all the love 💗 You're putting such a big smile on my face in times when real life is annoying me like real big. You're simply amazing!
> 
> So have fun with the new chapter and Dean freaking out over what he's done ^^'
> 
> -

It seemed like the interview never wanted to end.

Dean groans as he finally finds himself in his personal changing room and drops onto the couch. In the end it only had been around fifteen minutes, all in all, so nothing to complain about, and Leslie as well as the audience had been great and responsive to his sometimes dumb commentary.

Usually Dean would call this a success. And fun.

But then his mouth had to run away from him and he found himself spilling secrets about Cas he actually never told a single person before.

What the hell?

Dean has no idea what came over him in that moment. Maybe the unexpected reminder of Cas hit him harder than he thought. He never talked about this, not even with Sam who only had been ten years old at the time they lived next to the Novaks and probably can't even remember them properly anyways. Granted, his mom mentioned Dean's closeness to Cas once or twice with a weird waver in her voice, but Dean isn't sure whether she suspected something or whether she simply thought her son's behavior a bit unusual. After all, Dean indeed had been a brat back then and Cas didn't really represent the type of guy he normally hung out with.

Somehow or other, his mother never implied anything, probably just happy that her wayward child spent his time with a nice and polite boy for a change, and now Dean feels the strong urge to call her and just ask her about her thoughts back then.

But at the same time he catches himself blushing once more at the mere idea of going through such questioning again. Mary would most likely dig way deeper than even Leslie did and Dean seriously isn't ready for that yet.

Or ever.

Before he has any chance to make a stupid decision either way the door suddenly opens and Charlie rushes quickly inside, as though she is followed by a mob of soul-suckers hungry for her goods.

And considering that is most of their lives right now that's most likely not far away from the truth.

“Well, Winchester, you're already trending on _twitter_ ,” she announces without further ado. “I think this is the fastest you ever got.”

Dean raises a brow, once again baffled by modern media. Back when he started acting he heard about people's reactions to his work days later, at the earliest, and now he doesn't even have time to grab a cup of coffee before his fans (and also not-fans) share their inner feelings about him on an open platform.

Damn, the world has gone wild.

“This trending on _twitter_ thing is something good, right?” he asks cautiously. Charlie oftentimes gets condescending about his lacking knowledge in modern technology, so he learned a long time ago not to make it too obvious.

“Well, that depends on the topic, naturally,” Charlie explains, sounding patient for once. “But it gets you visibility, that's for sure. People are certainly talking about you.”

There is something in her voice Dean isn't sure he can trust. “Talking? About the movie? The interview?”

“The hashtag is _Mystery Crush_ ,” she says. “Cute, right?”

Dean feels his limbs freezing. He should've expected this, especially after the reaction of the people in the studio to his little confession time, but nonetheless his chest constricts uncomfortably.

“They're talking about Cas?”

He grabs Charlie's phone and quickly looks for proof on her screen. Sure enough he finds the _**#mysterycrush**_ instantly.

“So his name is Cas, huh?” Charlie grins brightly. “How come I've never heard of this guy before? I thought we're besties and stuff.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “No one knows about it, not even Sammy,” he states. “I … I dunno why I even brought it up in the first place. A brief moment of insanity, maybe.”

Charlie makes a noise like she questions his sanity on a regular basis anyway and Dean simply chooses to ignore her as he clicks on the hashtag to read to the newest comments.

  
  


**winfan98:** “ _isn't dean the cuuuutest? >.<” _

**calliopefam:** “ _Watching Dean Winchester blush over an old childhood crush might be the highlight of 2020 by a long shot!!!”_

 **sheep-with-eyes:** “ _I've been following Dean's career since the very beginning and I've NEVER seen him like this. Whoever that #mysterycrush is he's done a number on our favorite boy <3” _

_**lolol-lmao46:** _ “ _can we start a petition to find that #mysterycrush and reunite him with dean? it'd be like a real life rom-com, guys!!”_

 _**kellymaster:** _ “ _@lolol-lmao46 and someone has to film it so we can die from the cute >.<” _

  
  


Dean groans and rubs his forehead.

“They're all more or less the same,” Charlie tells him obediently. “Lots of squealing, even more so than normal, lots of calling you 'cutie pie', lots of wondering who that mysterious crush even is …” Her eyes start to twinkle in a way Dean seriously doesn't like. “I think some already drew doodles of your wonderful romantic reunion. In about an hour you're probably gonna get the most magnificent fanart ever, fans are honestly the most dedicated –”

“Okay, I get it!” Dean cuts in, grumbling underneath his breath.

Sometimes it's really scary how people get invested in basically anything he does. Hell, one time a fan created a sonnet about the way Dean drinks his freaking coffee and he's not sure he's ever recovered from that one.

“So what do you think I should do?” he asks, knowing perfectly well that Charlie isn't technically his publicist. Nonetheless he values her opinion above almost anyone else'.

“What do _you_ want to do?”

Dean blinks a few times. “Uh … ignore it until it goes away?”

Sounds reasonable enough. Unfortunately some things tend to stick with you for years, most of the time stuff you wish would've disappeared a long while ago.

“Well, that's definitely a plan,” Charlie agrees, yet somewhat carefully. “Not sure your fans will agree with you on that, though.”

Dean grits his teeth. “And why not? I'm not the first celebrity talking about some childhood crush, right?”

Charlie pats his knee as she sits beside him on the small couch. “Certainly not,” she admits. “But with you … it's different.”

Dean raises an eyebrow, not liking the tone in her voice. “And why is that?”

Charlie huffs. “You usually keep your private life _very private_ ,” she reminds him. “People don't even know your brother's name, as you may recall. You're having two separate lives and most of the time your fans seem to respect that just fine. I mean, you're offering them more than enough for compensation,” she adds, winking, most likely referring to all the silly _instagram_ stories or _twitter_ discussions she's forcing him to do. “You're interacting with your fans on a whole new level and they really appreciate that.”

Yeah, Dean figured out a long time ago that the new social media is a great way to talk with your fans, as a group as well as individuals. He doesn't know how many people he caused some heart attacks just by responding to their internet posts. It's good fun, it gets him closer to his fans and it allows him to take some liberties in other aspects of his life, particularly his privacy and family life.

“But nonetheless they're curious to learn more about you and your past,” Charlie says. “And now you _offered_ them something about you on a silver platter …” She sighs deeply. “Did you even _hear_ yourself? You sounded like a lovesick puppy, for Christ's sake. I've never seen you like that before.”

Dean blushes instantly and lowers his gaze.

“It's only natural that people want to know more.” Charlie snorts. “Hell, _I_ want to know more. Real bad.”

Dean bites his bottom lip. For a moment he considers offering some further information, for her ears only, but at the same time he fears he would start gushing again, losing himself once more in the memory. He barely can remember what he even said during the interview, it just _happened_.

“Is he still around somehow?” Charlie asks curiously, leaning unashamedly into his personal space.

Dean feels a pang in his chest as he answers, “No, we lost touch soon after I moved away.”

He wanted to stay in contact, desperately, but it also hurt. An awful lot. It was so painful to receive letters from Cas and knowing so well that he'd probably never see him again (or at least for a very long time – for teenagers that's the definition of “ _forever”_ ). He really tried to tell himself that it was enough, that getting letters was better than nothing at all, but when he caught himself one day actually _crying_ over a dumb thing Cas mentioned in his correspondence – the tree house in Dean's former backyard where they spent the majority of their time like a bunch of little kids –, Dean thought it wiser to end the contact altogether. And with them moving once again sometime after it wasn't that hard to begin with.

Dean hasn't heard from Cas in two decades.

And it still feels like no time has passed at all.

“And … you never looked him up?” Charlie appears tentative, like something on Dean’s expression makes her choose her words cautiously, while she, at the same time, nonetheless seems as though she’s on the verge of bursting from all the curiosity blooming up inside of her.

Dean heaves a deep sigh and for a second considers to simply change the topic or just flee the room and hide in some bathroom stall. But next to Sam Charlie is his best friend and he just can’t put her off like that.

“I … um, I did look him up,” he confesses, ducking his head to hopefully cover the emotions most likely flickering over his features. “A few years back.”

Charlie leans closer. “And?”

Dean opens his mouth, ready to spill the beans, but no tone comes out and he finds himself grimacing instead at the reminder. He feels that old ache in his chest again and just knows that he’s physically unable to talk about the things that unfolded back then, even with someone he trusts as completely as Charlie.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” he mutters after a tense moment of silence. “Can we … can we not?”

Charlie has no trouble recognizing the pain this is causing her friend and instantly raises her hands. “Sure, of course, I’ll never mention it again.”

Dean rubs his palms over his face and groans deeply. “This is just …” He shakes his head. “Why did I _say_ all of this? _Why_ …?”

Why did his tongue run away from him? Why did his brain have to be so desperate to talk about Cas, after all this time?

And _why_ did that have to happen in front of a fucking camera?

“Cas will probably see that, like the rest of the goddamned world, and he’ll think me stupid or whatever.” Dean snorts and tries to ignore the knot in his throat at the mere idea of Cas thinking ill of him. “He's gonna roll his eyes and think, _'Thank God I haven't talked to that moron in ages'_ …”

“Really, Dean?” Charlie shakes her head. “If he's only half the man you said he was I'm pretty sure something like that would never even cross his mind. Am I right?”

Of course she's right.

Cas might be sassy and sarcastic and sometimes so outright blunt it borders on obsessively rude, but he's one of the best men Dean's ever known and he would never dismiss another person for their feelings in such a cold manner. No, he'd rather talk about it in great detail, his gaze solemn as he studies that other person without even blinking, afraid he might miss a microsecond of facial expressions.

Damn, Dean _really_ misses him.

And that's probably why, after over two decades of never even mentioning his teenage emotions to anyone, not even the people closest to him, it suddenly got away from Dean as he found himself lost in the memory.

In front of a huge audience because this is his frigging life now apparently.

Dammit all to hell.

“Don't pull such a face,” Charlie's voice jolts him out of his thoughts. “It's not like the world is ending or whatever.”

Dean sighs. “I guess you're right.”

“I'm _always_ right,” she reminds him with a smirk. “So cheer up, accept that what happened happened and you can't do anything about it now, and make it up as you go.” She pats him on the shoulder. “And if you ever wanna talk and give me some juicy deets, I'm totally here for you.”

Dean offers her a tight smile. He actually just wants this to be over and forgotten as fast as possible.

But as he glances back at the open _twitter_ page on Charlie's phone and sees that hashtag growing and growing by the millisecond he just knows that this is merely a pipe dream.

\-----

For the next twenty minutes Dean's phone doesn't stop ringing or vibrating or chirping in any way.

Most of the time he simply ignores it. For a while he even considers turning it off altogether, but just when his thumb hovers over the button a text message from his freaking mother suddenly pops up and Dean feels like the worst son in the world for even thinking about shutting her out.

Thankfully she only tells him she enjoyed the interview and gushes over how handsome he looked while she, probably very deliberately, doesn't mention the incident with Cas at all. Just a minute later a text from Sam's phone arrives next, more or less telling him the exact same thing (though he uses “ _you did not look like a total loser for a change”_ instead of Mom's _“handsome”_ ), making Dean suspect that they likely already talked about this fiasco with each other and conspired to treat Dean like a skittish animal at first and not spook him into retreat and denial.

Sooner or later though they will attack, probably both of them at the same time, and he will be powerless against their combined forces.

Ugh.

Sometimes Dean really hates his life.

And it gets even worse when just a minute later his phone rings again and Benny's name shows up on the screen.

Dean groans. He _so_ not in the mood to talk about any of this.

But Benny is his agent, the man who stood at his side since the very beginning, back when Dean wasn't much more than a little actor among an ocean of other people just like him, the guy who never stopped believing in Dean and his talent and eventually, after lots and lots of extra work and persistence, lifted him up and helped him achieve everything he never dared even dreaming about.

Yeah, without Benny none of this would have been possible.

Dean just can't ignore him. Even if he really, _really_ wants to.

“I'm _not_ talking about this with you,” he immediately declares, foregoing any kind of greeting entirely as he begrudgingly answers the call. “No heart-to-heart, no _“Let's speak about inner feelings, Dean”_ bullshit, no tears, no crying –”

“How about I punch you in the face instead?” Benny suggests.

“Doesn't sound pleasant, but much more preferable to all the other options.”

“You're such an idiot, Winchester.”

Benny makes a grumbling noise, sounding like a angry bear ready to attack. Only the fact that Dean knows him for many years now and is well aware that the guy might sound threatening but very rarely is lets him keep his cool.

“One night, man,” Benny complains. “Just _one_ measly night I wanted for myself, you know? Just celebrate my sister-in-law's birthday with the family in peace. And then suddenly my phone wouldn't stop ringing because _you_ had the audacity to confess your undying love on live TV –”

“Whoa, _wait_ a minute –”

“You had to go all mushy and lovey-dovey and now everyone wants a piece of that story ASAP!” Benny continues, completely ignoring Dean's protests. “I'm not drunk enough for this bullshit, brother. Why the fuck did you have to do this to me?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Don't be so melodramatic.”

“I'm as melodramatic as I want,” Benny grumbles. “I'm missing the cake right now because I have to talk to your sorry ass. And though I made Andrea promise to save me some, Uncle Harold is an unrelenting black hole and I'm pretty sure I will see _nothing_ of this baked goodness. My family, they're animals, man. _Animals_!”

Dean grimaces. He's seriously ruining everyone's day, isn't he?

“I'm sorry, man …”

“Don't be sorry,” Benny huffs. “But you owe me a cake, you hear me? And not one of those store bought atrocities, but a homemade one. _Your_ homemade one.”

Dean can't help an amused smile. Benny always goes so grumpily crazy over his baking it's almost adorable.

“Whatever you want.”

“Good.” Benny clears his throat, sounding a lot like he's bracing himself for what is to come next. “Okay, let's go down to business, shall we? I don't have all night and neither have you, am I right?”

Dean sighs. He just wants to crawl into his bed and forget this day ever happened.

“Several reporters and news stations already requested further information about this, uh, situation,” Benny explains. “But I guess you're not really down for giving an official statement or some interviews, are you?”

Dean snorts so loudly probably the people three floors above him are able to hear. “ _Hell no_!”

“No names, no more backstory, not even one single word?”

Naturally Benny already knows the answer to that question, but he always makes it a habit of asking nonetheless.

“I just want it to go away,” Dean states. “I said something dumb in a moment of weakness and that's all there is.”

Benny scoffs. “I'm not sure this will just disappear into nothingness. On the contrary, I'm afraid you're gonna end up as a meme by the end of the night, my friend.”

“What does that even mean?”

Benny chuckles. “That you're an old man.”

Dean grits his teeth, but at the same time it feels kinda reassuring to get mocked like that. It's a piece of normality in a messed-up situation.

“Okay, of course I'm not gonna be able to control the media, so you and your little love declaration will be all over the news pretty soon,” Benny says, “But I'm gonna make sure to let everyone know you're not up for any kind of statement. So if they don't want to get in any trouble they should think twice before asking you any questions regarding that matter.”

From experience Dean knows that not everyone will be utterly impressed by this and harass him nevertheless, but at least it's a start.

Besides, there are even more important matters at hand.

“I need you to make sure that nobody starts digging too deep,” he demands, feeling his chest tighten at the mere idea of these sharks discovering a trail to his past. “If they'd find out where I lived when I was fourteen and who my neighbors were at the time …”

 _God_ , Dean can't even imagine. They would be on those news like hungry predators and camp on Cas' doormat day and night, every single one of them fighting over the tiniest glance at the _Mystery Crush_. It would be bloody and hostile and overall the last thing Cas deserves.

He's just a normal guy living his life and he seriously doesn't need Dean to complicate his life in such a manner.

At least not more than he already did.

“Don't worry, brother,” Benny tries for reassuring. “You know that Charlie and I sealed up your private information absolutely airtight. It's next to impossible –”

“Still, _people_ talk,” Dean reminds him, chewing his bottom lip nervously as he attempts to remember his old neighborhood. He barely recalls anything beside Cas and his captivating smiles from that time of his life, to be honest, but he's pretty sure there were other people around as well. Friends, neighbors, mailmen, girl scouts and their cookies – the list goes on.

Granted, Dean didn't really socialize that much back then apart from Cas and since they didn't go to the same school there actually aren't that many people able to make any kind of connection between them. Dean didn't tell the guys at school about his neighbor (way too afraid they would catch up on his crush right away) and Cas had been quite a content loner at the time, so it's fair to assume he didn't pull his entire relationship with Dean on a huge billboard for his classmates to see.

So yeah, all in all they might be lucky. Sure, a few stray neighbors might feel a vague tingling, a memory tickling in the back of their minds, but to be perfectly frank most of the time both Dean and Cas just kept to themselves. Not to mention that a lot of the people living on that street had been on the happy side of retirement already and probably barely remember anything, especially not that family who lived next to them for a few short months. They were mostly daydreaming about their vacations and grandchildren and coin collections, so why bother to pay attention to a couple of teenagers living close by?

But still, doubt starts to gnaw on Dean nonetheless.

“I don't want Cas to wake up one morning and find a pack of noisy reporters in his front yard, you know?” Dean says with a heavy sigh. “I already made enough of a mess, he doesn't need to suffer because of my stupid mouth running away from me.”

It would be too much.

Way too much.

Benny, meanwhile, fell silent, his pensiveness radiating through the phone. “Cas, huh?” he asks eventually. “This doesn't happen to be, by chance, the same guy whose address you made me look up all those years ago?”

Dean grumbles. Damn Benny and his impeccable memory.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Dean tries to deflect, knowing that the attempt is weak at best, but unable to stop himself anyway.

“You know? When you called me in the middle of the night and basically ordered me to look that guy up?” Benny reminds him with a growl. “Took me quite a while. I could never forget that name, even if I wanted to.”

Dean fidgets uncomfortably.

He _seriously_ doesn't want to think about this chapter of his life. Twelve years ago … sitting in that hospital … alone and scared while his Dad … yeah, _hell no_.

“We are _not_ talking about this!” he demands, emphasizing his words just as he did with Charlie before when she asked those nagging questions. “It doesn't matter anyway, okay?”

“But –”

“ _Please_ , Benny,” he grits through this teeth. “Just – _please_ keep your eyes and ears open and make sure that Cas will be able to live his super normal life. I don't …” He sighs deeply. “I messed up and I don't wanna make it worse for him, okay?”

Benny stays quiet for a while after that, apparently considering Dean's request with the same determination he does everything else in his life. In the end, though, he just says, “Of course, brother. Whatever you need.”

Dean feels his shoulder sag, some of the tension draining out of his muscles. Granted, he never expected Benny to deny him any wish – partly because he works _for_ Dean and therefore can't afford to ignore his client, but also because they're friends since the dawn of time itself and Dean is able to count on him for anything –, but he still felt his body cramping up on its own accord.

“Thanks, Benny.”

“Anytime,” Benny promises. “And don't forget, if you ever wanna talk, I'm here for you.”

Dean remembers Charlie swearing him the exact same thing not twenty minutes ago and can't help smiling fondly. He's got some amazingly awesome people in his life.

“I know, Benny. I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I hope you had fun with Dean freaking out and interacting with both Charlie and Benny and me teasing you about some of the stuff in the past that went down!
> 
> Don't worry, you'll get your explanations – eventually ;)
> 
> And good news for the next chapter: Since I will be quite busy next Tuesday (job, doctor appointments and a “Lord of the Rings” nerd quiz later that night where I will undeniably impress the judges with my ability to confuse all the names and places) I'm gonna post the chapter a day earlier on Monday for a change! I hope you don't mind ;D


	5. Mystery Crush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just as promised, an early chapter :D
> 
> I actually could've kept my original schedule since the nerd quiz tomorrow has been canceled like every else is canceled these days (or more like postponed, in this case, thankfully), but I promised you an early chapter, so you'll get one ;D
> 
> Have fun!
> 
> -

Castiel tries to ignore it.

Not to think about it.

And it works.

For a little while.

He goes to bed and after berating himself at least twenty-seven times to stop mulling it over he finally falls asleep and thankfully dreams about nothing he’s able to remember the next day. His morning routine is the same as always – jogging, showering, making breakfast, listening to Claire complaining about a report that’s due next week – and for a short period of time Castiel actually finds himself wondering whether that interview and everything associated with it did actually happen at all.

Perhaps it was just a hallucination? A dream?

Something his obviously very tired brain made up in a moment of weakness?

For a while he’s fairly content to believe it. To grip to that thought and not let it go.

It works very well for the rest of the weekend. Cocooned inside his own world, with just his books and his messy mind, it's actually quite easy to believe.

But when Monday rolls around he suddenly realizes there’s a big problem he surely didn’t anticipate: He’s the principal of a high school.

And his students love nothing more than to gossip about their favorite celebrities.

Castiel has barely entered the premises before he hears the first kids mentioning Dean’s name in excited whispers. Words like “lovestruck” and “mystery crush” hit Castiel several times before he even reaches his office. Girls (and even some boys) sigh, declaring Dean “the sweetest guy alive”, and pictures of the actor are seen on every single phone screen Castiel passes. Apparently several different news articles, probably depicting thoroughly what Dean revealed last Friday about his past.

Castiel groans and has no idea what to do. His little bubble of denial certainly has been popped efficiently.

He buries himself in his office for the rest of the day, showing an almost terrifying dedication to his paperwork while tuning the rest of the world out. As before it works for a while – especially arguing with the school board about new art supplies for like half an hour certainly manages to distract him properly –, but it doesn’t hold for long.

A few times he hears the children talk outside on the schoolyard close to his window, other times he attempts to look something up on the internet and finds himself attacked by countless news reports about Dean.

“ _Dean Winchester - still in love with the boy from next door after over twenty years?”_

“ _WHO is that “Mystery Crush”?”_

“” _Mystery Crush” trending on twitter – millions of people eager to know more about the boy who managed to steal Dean Winchester’s heart”_

“ _The entire world caught their breath this weekend as Dean Winchester revealed his (still very real?) love for the former boy from next door”_

“ _Is the “Mystery Crush” unconsciously responsible for all of Dean’s failed relationships in the past?”_

“ _Will there be a happy end for our Dean?”_

Castiel buries his face in his palms and just prays that all of this will be over soon.

  
  


\-----

  
  


Unfortunately it doesn’t die down.

Even two days later Castiel is confronted by the entire thing from all sides. He was not even able to read his newspaper in peace without getting slapped into his face several times.

The media, the students, his own children at home – it seems to be everywhere. Either blatantly obvious or hidden between the lines.

There was no escape.

And at some point Castiel started to wonder whether it’s a sign.

A sign to finally reach out to Dean again.

The main reason he never even considered getting back into contact again was the fact that he always assumed Dean would have forgotten about him. A Hollywood star, loved by so many people, surrounded by friends and family the entire time. Why would he care about a dorky and awkward boy he used to live next to for a couple of months when he was a teenager?

Castiel couldn’t even fathom Dean might remember who he was at all.

Dean has always been open and social and probably made tons of new friends after moving away. While Castiel kept being a loner and never met anyone like Dean again.

Castiel surely wasn’t surprised when their contact died down and eventually stopped. Part of himself actually found himself astonished that Dean kept up with it for so long in the first place. Dean’s letter were always cheery and enthusiastic, talking about the new school and the awesome people he met, and Castiel just knew that sooner or later Dean would be swept away by it.

That’s just the way life is.

After all, soon afterwards Castiel was so occupied with school and college he easily might have become the one to end their letter exchange at some point and forget about it.

So yes, Castiel never held a grudge.

Instead he felt grateful he was privileged to be in Dean’s presence for these wonderful few months. He never would’ve traded that experience for anything.

He closed that chapter, a long time ago.

And now here he is, sitting in his office, and feeling like a little kid again. Wondering if he should risk to make a move or just keep quiet and not bother Dean?

Castiel stares down at the picture in his hands and sighs. After all this went down he dug it up deep in his treasure box and has been carrying it around ever since. To have it close. To keep the memory alive.

He looks at the photograph, at the two young boys smiling brightly at him. Sam took it, on a sunny day in May shortly after he got the camera for his birthday and found himself eager to shoot pictures of everything in close range. Castiel recalls being highly amused by Sam’s pure enthusiasm, more than happy to indulge the boy and grin even when the flash blinded him for a few moments.

Dean used to roll his eyes in fond exasperation at his brother, but never hesitated to play model for Sam’s experiments. He laughed, he went into pose (his favorite one he liked to call “blue steel”), and most of the time he pressed Castiel at his side and told him to “smile into the camera, dude”.

Castiel vividly remembers the moment the particular photo in his hands has been taken. They just had an excessive barbecue and Dean was euphoric after all the burgers and homemade pie Castiel specifically baked for that occasion. Castiel still recalls the look on Dean’s face as he saw the pie for the first time, how exhilarated and delighted he reacted.

And now Castiel can’t help remembering the quick emotion that flickered over Dean’s features back then. Castiel’s never been able to identify it, always kept wondering if he missed something important in that very moment.

It seems like he really had.

Castiel stares at their faces, at the youth and innocence in their expressions. How Dean pulled him impossibly close and wrapped his arm around Castiel’s waist. How their bodies aligned perfectly. How Dean seemed keen doing it over and over again that day (and many days afterwards), constantly claiming to keep it up for “Sam and his little camera”.

Castiel suddenly realizes how absolutely blind he used to be.

Damn.

  
  


\-----

  
  


Castiel has no idea how much time has passed just looking at the photo and getting lost in the memory and everything he had missed in his obliviousness when eventually Meg waltzes into his office with a pile of papers in her hands.

“Just some new treats,” she announces with a wink, always happy to dump more work on Castiel’s desk. “There seems to be some issue with the safety precautions for prom, so have fun figuring that one out.”

She scoffs, clearly thanking the Gods she isn’t the principal, and turns on her heels, already on her way back to her desk to look up some more stuff for Castiel to have work through or to yell at people on the telephone for whatever reason.

Castiel mumbles a quick thank you, his mind still too busy thinking about Dean and the entire situation to think about his job, but as he shoots a glance at Meg’s retreating back he feels his chest tighten and he exclaims, “Wait!” before he even knows what he’s doing.

Meg pauses underneath the threshold and throws a questioning look over her shoulder. “Anything else, Clarence?”

Castiel hesitates for a moment. This might be a very bad idea, because Mag can be evil and blunt most of the time, but he also considers her a friend and right now he _really_ needs someone to talk to.

“Would you …?” Castiel licks his lips anxiously. “Would you maybe come inside and close the door behind you?”

Meg seems intrigued now as she follows the request without a single complaint. “What is it?”

Castiel ducks his head. Now or never.

“It’s something of a personal matter,” he explains. “If you have the time.”

Meg’s smile widens, obviously delighted by those words, and finds herself quicker in the chair across from him as he’s able to blink.

“Oh, Clarence, _of course_ I have the time,” she announces with a laugh. “Considering how uncomfortable you look right now, this might actually be a good one. I seriously wouldn’t want to miss that.”

Castiel rolls his eyes, but can’t exactly argue with her.

“So what is it?” she wonders, leaning forward eagerly. “Girl trouble? Boy trouble?”

Castiel grimaces. “Why do you automatically assume this has something to do with my love life?”

“Because I know you,” she says easily. “Usually you’re cool as a cucumber about everything. _Apart_ from that. Remember how that soccer mom tried to ask you out on a date?”

Castiel pulls a face at the reminder. He really doesn’t like thinking about that woman showing up unannounced out of nowhere all the time for months, fluttering her eyelashes at him and trying to lure him in with her cleavage. Castiel spent most of his days hiding in dark corners during that time.

“Or remember that new teacher you had this massive crush on?” Meg continues giddily.

Castiel can’t help a blush. Why does she have him remind him of _that_ of all things? Though “massive crush” is clearly a ridiculous exaggeration, he can’t deny that he got a bit tongue-tied when Inias joined their staff and introduced himself with the most sparkling smile. For a long while Castiel had trouble forming coherent sentences in that man’s presence, acting like a fool lots of times, and even ran into a door frame once, way too distracted by Inias’ beaming to remember to look where he was going. Thankfully the whole thing toned down on its own after a few weeks, especially after he met Inias’ wonderful wife at their little Christmas gathering, and Castiel swore to himself to never think about it again.

Meg, however, obviously didn’t get the memo.

“I’m just saying you’re getting really awkward with all the love and dating stuff since your divorce,” she says with a shoulder shrug. “ _Did_ you even go out on a date since then? I could never figure that out.”

Castiel is surely relieved to hear that because the fact that he didn’t even consider spending his time with a potential love interest in the last ten years might actually make her weep. There had been offers, an impressive amount actually, particularly shortly after the divorce, but as a new single father with two little children he could barely find the time for anything. And no one sparked his interest strong enough to make him reconsider.

Castiel presses his lips into a thin line and decides not to dwell on that. He’s happy – he has two amazing children, a good and stable job he loves, and a little house right at the edge of a forest, just like he dreamed about so often when he was younger. What more could he possibly want?

He surely won’t let Meg of all people tell him he’s missing something.

So in the end he simply ignores her little nudges and announces, “I think I have a problem.”

Meg lifts her brows and studies him for a while silently, obviously trying to determine how to react properly. She definitely noticed the slight tension in his voice and obviously begins to evaluate whether it’s a “I lost my favorite boxer shorts”-problem or a “I’m about to die and I have no idea who will water my plants after I’ll be gone”-problem.

Eventually she asks, her tone and entire demeanor absolutely calm, “And what might that be?”

Castiel fidgets on his seat, his heart beginning to race. “It's kinda hard to explain.”

“Then try me.”

“I'm not even sure it's an actual _problem_.”

Meg squints her eyes at him. “Then why –?”

“But it's on international level now,” Castiel cuts in, once again visualizing all the posts he read when he searched for that damned hashtag. “People are _talking about me_ , all over the world. I mean, they don't know it's _me_ me, but still –”

Meg hastily raises her hand to interrupt his rambling. “What the hell are you babbling about?”

Castiel takes a deep breath as he tries to collect his thoughts. He always had trouble articulating himself without proper preparation and once again that special quirk didn’t fail him. He scolds himself for not making some flash cards beforehand.

“When I was young, roughly around Claire’s age, there used to live a family next to ours,” he starts to explain, deciding it wouldn’t be a bad idea to start at the beginning. “Mom, Dad, two sons. I became good friends with the oldest, but then after about a year they moved away. We tried to stay in contact, but, well, life happens, right? We never saw each other again.”

Meg's frown deepens, probably wondering where this might go.

“And I thought he forgot about me, you know?” Castiel continues, high emotions swinging in his voice. “After all, it's been a lifetime ago, for both of us. It actually doesn't even feel real anymore, like it all just happened in a dream.” He shuts his eyes for a moment. “But God, it _was_ real. It was so fucking real _everyone_ knows about it now and I don't know what to do and say – I mean, should I contact him or leave it be? I don't know …”

Meg blinks a few times, clearly – and fairly understandably – not having a single clue what he is even talking about. “Um …”

“I should contact him,” Castiel, meanwhile, mumbles, ignoring Meg’s bewildered expression. “But then again, on the other hand, he’d know I’ve seen the interview and he might be utterly embarrassed …”

Castiel keeps muttering to himself, most likely looking like a man slowly going mad, and only stops when Meg reaches out and flicks his arm once to jolt him out of his reverie.

“Clarence, I really like you, but you’re not making any sense,” she grumbles. “So how about you start to elaborate before I smack you upside down, hm?”

Castiel merely scoffs at that and instead of a verbal answer pushes the picture he'd been holding the whole time into her hands.

Meg makes an incoherent sound at the back of his throat – which Castiel is unable to identify as either reluctant approval or an open threat – and eventually trains her gaze on the photo.

Soon enough, though, her features soften as she studies the picture. Her focus is clearly fixed on the image of a young Castiel first, probably deeming sixteen-year-old him absolutely adorable (and most likely very good blackmail material for the future), and for a moment it seems she wants to coo extensively over his boyish face in a very time consuming manner. Castiel already prepares himself to stop any kind of teasing coming his way, but then suddenly Meg’s whole expression changes as she finally takes notice of the other person in the picture.

She squints her eyes, assessing the boy right next to Castiel very closely, as bemusement and doubt starts to flicker over her features.

She is clearly beginning to catch on.

“Wow,” she mutters. “That boy – he looks a hella lot like a young Dean Winchester. _Damn_.”

Castiel licks his lips and finds himself squirming. “Well, it doesn't only look that way.”

Meg stays silent for another minute, merely putting the photo under the microscope some more, appearing like she is solving the greatest puzzle humanity ever had to face. Castiel can basically see the wheels in her brain turning and turning, trying desperately to make some kind of sense of the whole thing.

And eventually – with the picture in hand and the information Castiel provided for her before – it clicks.

At least her eyes grow as wide as saucers as she gasps for breath.

“Wait _a fucking minute_ –”

She shakes her head, in absolute disbelief.

“Are you saying –?”

“Yes,” Castiel cuts in.

Meg stares at him in utter shock. “The boy you lost contact with – and _Dean Winchester_ –?”

“Same person,” Castiel confirms her assumption.

“ _DEAN WINCHESTER_?” she practically bellows into his face. “The same Dean Winchester who just a few days ago confessed his eternal love to the former blue-eyed boy from next door??”

Castiel can’t help blushing at the phrasing. “He didn’t ‘confess his eternal love’” he mumbles, squirming uncomfortably.

“I didn’t watch the actual interview, but I’ve seen some clips from the show,” Meg says, narrowing her eyes. “That boy was gushing _so hard_ over his _mystery crush_ , like DAMN!” She runs her fingers through her hair, obviously having trouble wrapping her head around the entire thing. “And it’s _you_? It’s _seriously_ you?”

She looks at the picture in her hand again and curses underneath her breath.

And then she laughs.

Loudly.

 _Very_ loudly.

She throws her head back so vigorously for a moment Castiel fears she might break her neck and she lets it all out, open and powerful. And though the chair beneath her starts to lose its balance she still doesn’t tone it down. No, it’s coming all up from the depths of her demonic soul and echoes through the small room, bouncing from wall to wall and making Castiel highly uncomfortable in the process.

“Meg –”

“It’s _**YOU**_!”

“ _Meg_ –!”

“ _ **YOU**_!” she goes on, absolutely delighted by everything that is happening right now. “Mr. Proper and Tight. Lord Blue Eyes. The Master of Sass. The Duke of –”

“Yes, yes, I _get_ it,” Castiel growls. “Are you quite finished?”

Meg is way too busy rubbing tears of laughter out of her eyes to find a proper response at first, only cackling and hiccuping and generally being way too amused by Castiel’s standards.

“Because I have a problem, as you may remember,” Castiel adds with emphasis. “And I don’t know what to do.”

Finally Meg manages to get a grip on herself and takes a few deep breaths before answering, “What kind of problem you’re even talking about? The fact that America’s Sweetheart has the hots for you?”

Castiel tries to fight back a blush at her wording and fails miserably. “I just … I don’t know if I should contact him.”

Meg blinks a couple of times and studies him with an expression as though she thinks him completely crazy. “Well, _of course_ you’re gonna contact him!” she states. “What’s there even to think about?”

Castiel bites his bottom lip. “It’s not that easy …”

“Why not?” she wonders. “Whatever might’ve happened in the past, Dean’s clearly gotten over it. I mean, the way he talked about you – there wasn’t any bad blood or anything.”

“Nothing really happened,” Castiel explains as he starts to squirm in his seat. “We just lost touch …”

“So? Life happens.” Meg shrugs her shoulders. “He’s _obviously_ still thinking about you. So why not revive the touch again?” Her smile turns lewdly rather fast when she adds, “If you do, you actually might even have the opportunity to touch him in some places not many people have touched him before –”

Castiel makes a choking noise while his cheeks turn even warmer than before. “ _Meg_!”

“I’m just saying, if anyone would have the chance to get into Dean Winchester’s pants, I’m pretty sure it’s you.” Her grin grows bigger as she leans forward onto Castiel’s desk. “So why don’t grasp that horse and ride it –”

“Meg!” Castiel cuts in, grinding his teeth. “I’m not … I don’t …” He sighs heavily. “Dean was my friend. My _best_ friend. And I missed him terribly.” _I still do,_ he silently admits to himself. “Dean … he was one of the most amazing people I have ever met, certainly the one that left the most impact on me … and all these years I told myself he forgot about me. I guess it was easier that way, for my own sanity or whatever. I told myself over and over he wouldn’t even remember me anyway. Why would he, with the exciting life he’s living? Why would you spare even a second thinking about that dorky neighbor from over twenty years ago?”

Castiel closes his eyes for a moment and rubs his temple.

“I just … I guess I feel a bit overwhelmed by this,” he confesses. “I made my peace with only seeing him on my TV screen or in magazines or whatever and never really talking to him again. I was fine with that arrangement.” He groans. “And now, _all of this_ … what am I supposed to do now?”

He isn’t prepared for this.

For any of this.

At all.

Meg stares at him for a moment in silence, the mirth in her eyes replaced by pensiveness. Her gaze roams intensely over his features, taking everything in.

“Okay, fine, all joking aside,” she eventually concedes, “I guess in the end there is only just one important question to answer here.”

Castiel lifts his brows and can't help leaning forward, both intrigued as well as wary about what is to come. With Meg you never really know.

“And what is that question?”

Meg looks at him like she thinks him an idiot. “Isn't that obvious?” She shakes her head at the confusion on Castiel's face. “Just ask yourself: Do you _want_ to get back in contact with Dean?”

Castiel blinks.

And blinks some more.

“But we were just talking –”

“No,” Meg cuts in straight away, not giving him any chance to even finish his own thoughts. “You were wondering if you _should_ contact Dean. What you are _supposed_ to do now. That has nothing whatsoever to do with the question whether you actually _want_ to talk to the guy again.”

At first instinct Castiel is about to protest her phrasing again, but he instantly shuts his mouth as he realizes she is totally right. He got so fed up over this it turned into a question of obligation. He was analyzing the situation from all angles, wondered what was expected of him now, what people might think his next move should be.

Not once, however, did he actually consider his own stance. His personal feelings in the matter.

So yes. In the end it is indeed only important if he _wants_ to revive his relationship with Dean again.

Become part of his life once more, no matter how small.

And as he starts to imagine it – getting in contact once more, talking with Dean, hearing him joke and laugh and call Castiel's name with that special fondness in his voice – Castiel feels something warm spreading within his chest and he finds himself smiling softly.

Meg, apparently, has no trouble reading his expression. “And _there_ you have your answer.”

His smile just widens in response.


	6. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are again!
> 
> And I feel like a broken record, but I just can't stop gushing over all your collected awesomeness and general magnificence 🤗  
> You're the best, guys!!!
> 
> And I hope you have fun with the new chapter ^^
> 
> -

Castiel sighs and stares at the empty piece of paper right in front of him.

Since his talk with Meg (which he's pretty sure he'll regret sometime soon since she will be very insistent to know “all the details”) he's been debating how he should get into contact with Dean. At least it's not like you can find his number anywhere in the phone book or any other kind of register. From what Castiel gathered Dean is a very private person, so his chances are quite limited.

For a while he entertained the thought of finally getting himself a social media account and trying to reach out to Dean in that manner. After all, he seems to be fairly active on those websites and interact a lot with his fans. Castiel heard all about that from Claire, just about a year ago when Dean reacted to one of her messages (“ _Tweets, Dad!”_ ). Although she tried to keep a cool facade on the outside Castiel just knows how giddy she had been for weeks after.

So yes, he actually might get lucky and pique Dean's interest. Just with the right note.

But then again, Dean receives probably thousands of messages, texts, tweets, whatever, each day and the possibility of Castiel getting lost in this vast and powerful ocean seems quite high unfortunately. He might drown in there before getting even a tiny glance of Dean.

So after some more research he eventually found Dean's fan address.

Castiel has no idea whether Dean actually reads those letters sent to him or whether he has some people just looking through them and writing some thank-you cards in his name in return instead. But he figures his chances of actually being seen are somewhat better with this approach.

Not to mention that it reminds him of the old times. Writing a letter to Dean and then eagerly waiting for the response. It seems like a nice reminder of the past and Dean actually might appreciate it.

But now Castiel is sitting here, at the kitchen counter, and has no clue how long he's already been staring at the blank page in front of him.

Minutes? Half an hour? Maybe even longer?

He remembers having dinner with his children and it actually doesn't feel like that long ago, but his stomach already seems rather settled. So perhaps more time has passed than he realized.

Castiel sighs and wonders if all of that was such a good idea after all. At least it shouldn't be that hard, right?

“What ya doing, Dad?”

Claire strolls slowly into the kitchen, already wrapped into her pajama buttons and a loose shirt, and walks straight to the fridge. For a minute Castiel thinks she is here for a late night snack (and has it seriously already been that long ago since dinner?), but in the end she only grabs a bottle of water.

“Dad?” she asks again when Castiel fails to answer her question.

Castiel feels his body tense up as he glimpses uncomfortably at the paper on the counter. At first he considers just coming up with an excuse about work or whatever, but her gaze is open and earnest and no matter the fact he actually never really told her about his past involvement with Dean he never truly lied to her either. About anything.

So he won't start today.

“I'm writing a letter. To an old friend.” He hesitates for a moment and just chews his lips, before he adds, almost in a whisper, “Dean. His name is Dean.”

Claire merely smile easily, not even a hint of suspicion showing up on her features. And, to be frank, why should it? 'Dean' is quite a common name, she has no reason whatsoever to associate her father with the Hollywood actor. From her point of view that would probably be incredibly far-fetched to even consider for a millisecond.

“Dean, huh?” She seems amused. “How come I've never heard of that guy before?”

Castiel takes a deep breath. “We haven't talked with each other in a while.”

Understatement of the century, that's for sure.

Claire makes a humming noise and throws a glance over Castiel's shoulder, apparently curious to see what he's written down so far. At the lack of any words she finds herself snorting, however.

“You haven't gotten very far, hm?”

Yet again, understatement.

“I don't know,” he says, rubbing his temples. “We used to write each other letters all the time. And it was easy. Simple. But now?” He pulls a face. “Like I said, we haven't talked with each other for a while. It feels …”

“Weird?” Claire suggests helpfully.

“In a way, yes.”

Claire studies him for a moment pensively, most likely measuring her next words very carefully.

“What made you decide to write him again?” she asks. “After all this time, I mean?”

_Because he talked about me in a very flattering and wildly confusing manner in a national TV interview and I can't stop thinking about it ever since._

“I just –” Castiel starts to squirm on his seat. “I just got reminded of him recently. And I – I guess I started to remember how much I miss him.”

Claire nods like she didn't expect anything else. “So maybe write that down? Just tell him.”

Castiel feels his chest tighten. “Yes, maybe.”

“Or …”

“Or?”

Claire smirks, most likely amused by the hopeful note in her father's voice. “I guess just don't think about it too hard,” she proposes. “If you make such a big deal out of it you'll clamp up and in the end you'll fail. Just be yourself instead.”

“Be myself?”

She shrugs. “Yeah. You just said it was the easiest thing in the world to write to this guy, right? Why change that?”

“Uh …”

“Just do your thing, Dad,” she says. “Let it flow.”

Castiel tilts his head, assessing her advice intently. “I guess … you're not wrong.”

“I'm never wrong.” She winks at him. “That's why I'm the best.”

Castiel chuckles, affection filling his entire being. “You certainly are.”

Claire grins widely. “Then just go for it, Dad.”

It's clear that she wants to prod some more, wants to hear further things about this mysterious friend her father never mentioned before. But apparently the determination on Castiel's face as he grabs the pen in his hand even tighter, an energy burst running through his veins at Claire's wise proposal, keeps her from distracting him once again from his goal.

So in the end she only smiles and pats his shoulder. “Good luck, Dad.”

Castiel barely notices her leaving, the pen already flying over the paper in sheer excitement.

And, as it turns out in the end, it's still the easiest thing in the world.

\-----

“It’s Cas, isn’t it?”

Dean barely had time to drop his ass on the couch and take a sip of his beer before his brother’s sudden voice almost startles him into a heart attack.

“ _Dude_!” Dean growls, glaring at his laptop’s screen where Sam’s face looks back at him with barely concealed curiosity. “How about a freaking ‘Hello, nice to see you’? ‘Lovely to run into each other’?”

Naturally they didn’t stumble upon each other in the mall by coincidence but rather planned this video call in advance, accommodating both Dean and Sam’s busy schedules to the best of their abilities, but the point still stands. A bit of decent human courtesy surely never killed anybody.

Sam, however, merely rolls his eyes. “You’re an idiot.”

“And you’re forgetting your manners, man.” Dean scoffs. “Should I call Mom and tell her that her youngest offspring doesn’t even remember how to greet someone properly? _Especially_ someone of a higher station than him.”

“Only because you’re a fucking Hollywood actor –”

“Oh no, I’m not talking about that. I’m more important because I’m older. The firstborn son and everything.”

Sam sends bitch face #47 (“ _You’re not as funny as you think you are.”_ ) right across Dean’s internet connection, in high definition quality. “Right.”

“It’s true.” Dean shrugs his shoulders as he leans back with a smug smirk. “It’s scientifically proven –”

“You’re deflecting, Dean!” Sam cuts in, his eyebrows raised pointedly. “If you don’t wanna answer my question, just say so.”

Dean grimaces. “Alright,” he agrees. “I don’t wanna answer your question.”

Naturally Sam doesn’t let it go then and there. “So it _is_ Cas?”

Dean shuts his eyes and prays to all the Gods that an apocalypse might come along to have him miss out on this conversation. “Dude …”

“How did I not see this?” Sam mumbles to himself, shaking his head in disbelief. “I mean, it must’ve been blatantly obvious, I guess …”

Dean huffs at that. “You were like ten years old, Sammy. Give yourself some slack.”

“But you were so crushed when we had to move,” Sam reminds him like Dean might’ve forgotten about that somehow. “I should’ve known something was different than all the other times we left people behind. You were so fucking sad for such a long time and I think I even saw you cry once –”

“Thanks for the memory lane,” Dean grumbles. “How about we talk about something else? Basically anything would be more fun right now.”

Even the most recent fungus infection of Sam's dog.

 _Anything_.

Sam, however, doesn't seem all too keen on dropping the subject. “But –”

“How's life treating you?” Dean cuts in quickly, more than ready to use any distraction tactic available. “Did you ask Eileen to marry you yet?”

Sam grimaces, clearly not happy with Dean stirring the conversation elsewhere but also way too head over heels for his new neighbor to not talk about her every opportunity he gets. “We went on _two_ dates so far,” he grumbles, an adorable flush on his cheeks now. “Don't get ahead of yourself.”

Dean smirks. “Oh please, you've been writing wedding invitations in your head since she moved in. I'm surprised you didn't pop the question yet.”

Unfortunately he didn't have yet the honor to meet Eileen and – more importantly – witness firsthand how his tall Sasquatch of a brother turns into a bumbling mess around her. Due to the fact it's already entertaining seeing the guy only _talk_ about her – including fidgeting and blushing and stammering – it must be fucking hilarious to watch his dorky mating dance in action and Dean can't wait for that to happen.

Eileen moved into the small, cute house right across from Sam about four months ago and made sure to wrap him around her finger ever since. It started with moving some furniture to help her settle in and was instantly followed by a hearty dinner as a “thank you”. Since then it turned into a steady work of progress and eventually, about two weeks ago, Eileen obviously got tired of waiting for Sam to make the first move and asked him out on a date, apparently so out of the blue for Dean's stupid brother than he dropped a stack of books he'd been carrying at the time out of shock right onto his foot.

He walked funnily for a few more days, but in the end he scored himself a date.

Good for him.

And also a little pathetic.

“Told her yet about your awesome brother?” Dean wonders with a wide grin.

Sam scoffs. “Yeah, no way.” He shakes his head as though the mere idea is absolutely ridiculous. Then, however, he freezes, a pensive expression flickering over his features, and he adds a solemn, “But probably soon, I guess.”

Oh wow. So it _is_ serious.

Dean's family always valued their privacy, so naturally neither Sam nor their mom announce their relations to the famous Hollywood actor carelessly to the entire world. More than anything Dean wants them to have normal lives – something he didn't have for himself for years now and probably never really will get again –, therefore they're all very cautious about who they tell their little secret.

So far only one of Sam's girlfriends – his college sweetheart Jess who he even considered to propose to at one point, before they eventually drifted apart and went their separate ways – ever learned about Sam's “mysterious older brother”. Everyone else remained completely oblivious, till this day believing they only dated a regular guy who coincidentally had the same surname as the popular actor.

So Sam seriously thinking about sharing Dean's true identity with Eileen – that's freaking huge!

“I mean, she already knows I've got a brother,” Sam hurries to explain, as though he seriously has to justify his decision somehow. “Admittedly, I was a bit drunk when I let it slip and I instantly panicked and told her your name is Dan and she had a good laugh about poor 'Dan Winchester' having to live with such an unfortunate name, but … yeah, it happened. And I hate lying to her.”

Dean sure gets that.

“Then go for it, man,” he encourages him. “But don't cry like a baby when she drops you like a hot potato and comes running to me. After all, I'm _awesome_.”

Sam huffs. “You're an awesome airhead, yes,” he agrees without any hesitation. “You're not her type anyway. Too short, too full of yourself.”

“I'm a freaking catch, Sammy –”

“Besides, the whole world knows by now that you're way too in love with the boy from next door to even look at anyone else.”

And here they are again.

Dean should've known.

“You're a jerk,” he grumbles, most likely looking like a disgruntled teenager and not giving a damn.

Sam, at least, seems to find it very amusing as he smirks at his brother. “Oh, I'm aware,” he says, sounding way too pleased with himself. “And you should brace yourself, I'll not be the only one pestering you about this.”

Dean rolls his eyes. _Of course_ he's seen all the news articles and media posts and whatnot, talking about it like there isn't anything else worthwhile to report about.

“I'm not talking about your fans or the press,” Sam objects, once more being able to read Dean's mind like an open book. “I'm talking about Mom.”

Dean groans.

He hasn't heard from her for about a week now and he honestly started to hope that she would just simply let the whole thing slide, like so many other stories the media picked up and blew into proportion before.

But by the way Sam is grinning at him he realizes he's been wrong.

“She already called you, didn't she?” he sighs.

Sam nods instantly. “About 0.02 seconds after you were finished gushing about Cas on national TV.”

Dean rubs his temples in a desperate attempt to fight back an upcoming headache.

Mary always tried to be laid back about her son's love lives and not press them too much, but in the end she could never really contain her natural curiosity. She claims it to be maternal instincts impossible to ignore, no matter what, and though Dean knows that's utter bullshit he loves her anyway.

She enjoys to drop little hints here and there, no matter whether Dean is single or currently dating someone, constantly eager to be up-to-date, and offer some well-meaning advice, if needed or not.

It's been its worst when Dean and Lisa were an item for about a year – till this day his longest relationship ever – and since then Mary appears particularly keen to learn about Dean's newest adventures. She is probably already dreaming about white picket fences and grandchildren every single day by now.

Dean's personal nightmare since he hates nothing more than disappointing his mom.

Lisa is long over, there hasn't anybody significant since, and only because he got a bit lost in his memory over Cas doesn't mean he'll jump on his white horse and marry the guy in a heartbeat.

“What did she say?” Dean wonders, mostly dreading the answer but having to ask anyway. “She already looking for china?”

Sam chuckles. “Mainly she was baffled she didn't notice a thing back then,” he explains. “Well, she always found it rather cute how you followed Cas around like a little puppy –”

“I did _not_!”

“– but she didn't think anything more went on than you guys just being best friends,” Sam continues. “Granted, that was way before you told us you're bi and everything, but yeah …” Sam falls silent for a moment and studies Dean attentively. “I think mostly she feels just guilty she didn't realize what was going on.”

Dean's chest starts to constrict. The last thing he wants is his mother to feel bad about this.

“This is stupid,” he says. “She has nothing to feel guilty about.”

“Then call her and tell her that yourself.”

Dean mutters something that sounds like a _yeah alright_ if you're listening closely enough. He certainly doesn't look forward to it, but it seems there is no way around this time. Not without being a total douche in the process.

“You ever tried locating Cas?” Sam asks after a moment. “'Cause you know, I know a lot of cops and some of them owe me a favor or two …”

Dean snorts at the phrasing. “God, that sounds like you're a hooker or a mob boss.”

“Since I started working at the DA's office your jokes got even _less_ funnier than before.”

“I'm just saying –”

“Just try to stay mature for a change, how about that?” Sam shakes his head as if he seriously can't believe he is supposed to be the younger sibling here. “I was only wondering … well, if you wanted to get in touch with Cas, maybe explain what happened at that interview – I could help you out.”

Dean takes a deep breath. “You think it would be a great idea to _stalk_ him now? After talking about him on TV in that way?” He scoffs. “Yeah, that wouldn't be creepy _at all_.”

“I just meant –”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean interjects, absently waving him off. “I appreciate it, dude, but it's done. If Cas hasn't moved into an isolated part of the world since we last saw him, he probably heard about what happened by now. And I have no idea what he might be thinking, _if_ he even bothers to think about it for longer than a second, and that's the end of the line for me. I've done enough, I certainly won't start snooping around him.”

“But –”

“This isn't a rom-com, Sammy,” Dean growls. “We won't find each other again and magically fall in love or whatever bullshit you think might happen. He's got a life, a job, kids and a wife, the last I heard –”

Sam's head snaps up at that. “How do you know that?”

Dean shrugs him off once more, already regretting opening his stupid mouth. He said way too much.

“Just leave it alone, Sammy, okay?”

Sam raises a brow, obviously not very keen to listen to his brother. “So you looked him up before, then?”

Dean groans. “A long time ago,” he admits. Because at the end of the day Sam would've gotten the answer out of him anyway, so what's the point in deflecting? “It's over and done with, you hear me?”

“But –”

“How about you tell me about the latest criminals you put into jail?” Dean interrupts. “Or your weak attempts to woo Eileen with your nonexistent cooking skills?”

 _Anything_ but Cas.

Sam doesn't seem thrilled by that lame diversion tactic and shoots his brother bitch face #39 ( _“This conversation isn't over by a long shot, you moron.”_ ), but in the end he relents and quickly gets lost in a gloriously fluffy and romantic story about Eileen bringing some cupcakes over the other day and Dean finds himself relaxing once again.

Yeah, all of this excitement about Cas and the interview will be over soon. He just knows it.

While Dean continues to live his life, Sam falls more and more in love with his dream girl, their mother, by some miracle, is way too busy to pester her son, and Cas … well, this entire thing will just be a temporary fluke he's gonna forget rather quickly.

Dean is certain of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you _really_ certain, Dean??
> 
> Because a little birdie told me there might be finally some honest-to-God, real-life DeanCas interaction in the next chapter 😏
> 
> Until then, my friends!!


	7. Mail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, my friends!!
> 
> I hope you're all well, wherever you are 💗
> 
> And to hopefully brighten your day at least a tiny little bit, I'm bringing the new chapter with me!
> 
> Have fun ^^
> 
> -

When Charlie enters his hotel room without knocking and instantly announces, “Okay, handmaiden, I don't want you to freak out …” Dean just knows there is something bad coming his way.

Dean looks up from the phone in his hands – being parts annoyed she burst into his place without caring about privacy, parts relieved he put some pants on about half an hour ago, and mainly afraid about hearing the news she's carrying with her.

“Dude, _knocking_?”

Charlie scoffs, apparently not impressed as she throws her bag and jacket onto the couch like she owns the place. “Don't call me 'dude'.”

“Dudette then?”

Charlie grimaces hard at that term. “Oh God, that's even worse. How old are you again?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “That doesn't change the fact that knocking first is the polite thing to do. I gave you the key for emergencies, not that you could waltz in here whenever you want.” He scoffs. “I could have been naked.”

Charlie grimaces so hard at that it's outright offensive. “Oh God, you're right.” She shudders from top to bottom, making a whole melodramatic show of it. “ _Ew_ , I would've been scarred for life.”

Dean narrows his eyes. “You realize I'm your employer, right? How about being a little less rude, huh?”

“I mean, c'mon,” Charlie sighs. “Can you imagine seeing yourself naked?”

Dean blinks. “Yeah. I can imagine it pretty well since, y'know, it actually happens a lot.”

“Ugh, poor baby.”

Dean grits his teeth. He's seriously not in the mood for this.

“What do you want, Charlie?” he urges. “If you're just here to insult me I'd actually consider calling security and having you thrown out of this room. No one would blame me.”

“Okay, fine, sorry.” She doesn't sound apologetic in the slightest, though, and only the fact that Dean loves her like a (very obnoxious) sister keeps him from pushing her back into the hallway and smacking the door right into her face. “I just … well, I have a letter for you.”

Dean lifts a brow. The entire fuss, for this?

“Oh God, what is it?” he wonders, dread already clenching his chest. “Is it the IRS again because I forgot to send in a receipt for that pack of gum I bought in 1997?”

“Uh … no.”

Without further ado she pushes an envelope into his hands. It's white and simple and thankfully looks the opposite of official.

“It was sent to your fan address,” Charlie informs him.

Dean can't help a smile. Despite the rise of social media and everything he still loves that some of his fans stick to the old ways and actually send him some handwritten letters to voice their adoration for him or just to say hello. Naturally it's been declining more and more for the last couple of years, but nonetheless the art of letter writing is far from extinct and Dean just loves to put some time aside just to read through them. Some are older fans not really familiar with technology, a few are simply people who are hoping to have a better chance reaching him in such a way instead of drowning within the million messages from other fans on the websites (and they're not wrong), and a couple of them (and Dean's absolute favorites) are little children just barely able to spell, sending him letters and drawings and pictures and making his day a little bit brighter with all their cuteness.

So Dean totally expects to have something similar in his hands and smiles warmly as he checks the sender's name.

And then his entire body freezes.

Because there, in big letters, it reads _Castiel Novak_ and Dean feels like his heart is plummeting through the floor.

“It's him, isn't it?” Charlie asks, leaning closer with barely concealed excitement. “It's that Cas dude you've been telling me about, right? Mr. _Mystery Crush_ himself.”

Dean wants to scold her for using that stupid term the internet made up, but in the end he feels way too floored to even utter a single word.

“Benny and I teamed up,” Charlie explains. “I was keeping a close eye on your social media for any possible relevant messages and Benny confiscated your fan mail. I got a text from him two days ago that he found something interesting and that he'd make sure one of his guys would bring it over.”

Dean blinks and stares at the unopened envelope. Usually Benny insists on having someone look through Dean's fan mail first to get rid off anything potentially offensive or worse before it even reaches the actor's eyes, but this time nobody touched it beforehand and Dean feels all kinds of overwhelmed by this. Next to Cas _he_ will be the only one knowing what's written in this letter and he has no idea how to deal with that information.

It's too much.

“You knew this would happen?” he finds himself croaking eventually because focusing on Charlie for at least a split moment seems easier than wrapping his head around the entire thing.

“Well, after your grand love confession Benny and I just assumed that boy of yours would try to reach out,” Charlie says, a smirk playing over her lips. “After all, how could he not?”

Dean actually has no clue how to answer that, so he decides to concentrate on something else instead. “Benny's guys … do they know?”

“No, don't worry,” she waves him off straight away. “I mean, okay, they might be suspicious of the timing when Benny all of a sudden claimed all the fan mail for himself, I'll give them that, but it's not like they got any glimpses. Benny completely kept them out of it and he put your boy's letter in a bigger, sealed envelope before sending it over here. Nobody got a look at it.”

Dean stares at the letter, studies Cas' handwriting, on one hand so familiar, on the other hand quite different after over twenty years, and his throat closes up.

For a minute he actually considers to just fling the letter away and never speak of it again. Naturally it's no coincidence that Cas wrote him now for the first time in over two decades, _of course_ he'd seen the interview or at least all the aftershocks throughout the media, and Dean feels all kinds of anxious wondering what the hell he might have to say to all of this. Is it pity for Dean's sorry teenage ass developing such a major crush on him? Is he embarrassed that everything blew up in such a manner? Or does he even have a good laugh about it?

Whatever it is, Dean finds himself blushing. It doesn't even matter that the guy isn't actually present right now.

“You're gonna open it or stare at it until the end of time?” Charlie asks impatiently as she leans in to get a better view. “Because I'm literally _dying_ over here –”

“You should get out,” Dean says, his voice steady whereas his heart is not.

“But –”

“ _Please_ , Charlie.”

He has no idea what's going on with his face in that moment, but Charlie's expression changes all of a sudden and she nods fiercely.

“Yes, of course,” she says, leaping onto her feet. “I'll leave you to it.”

She can see how important this is to him. How he needs to do this on his own, without a nosy audience peeking over his shoulder.

“But remember,” she adds as she is standing at the door frame, on the verge of stepping out into the hotel's hallway, “I'm always here for you. So if you need me …”

 _If that letter is devastating news and you need someone to hug you for like two days_ , she doesn't say so much in words but in the raise of her eyebrows.

Dean shoots her a warm smile and a silent thank you, once again grateful she found her way into his life all these years ago. He has seriously no fucking idea what he'd do without her.

Probably burn and crash spectacularly.

“And no matter what is written in that letter, we're gonna get _so_ drunk tonight, watch a bunch of _Star Trek_ and take a shot whenever Kirk and Spock look deeply into each other's eyes,” she announces with a big grin on her face.

Dean can't help beaming back at her. “You're the best, Bradbury.”

Charlie merely salutes. “I'll get the booze.”

And then she is gone and Dean is all alone with Cas' letter in his hand.

 _Damn_.

He knows deep down that this is ridiculous, that he is a fucking movie star with influence and power and therefore he shouldn't get so worked up over a guy he hasn't seen for over twenty years now.

It's absurd.

Pathetic.

Right?

Sure, Cas was the first – and maybe, even Dean is honest with himself, the only one so far – who sparked such intense feelings inside of him he actually felt helpless on a daily basis. He was a mess around the guy more often than not and probably his already not half-bad acting skills even back then saved him from being found out within the first week of knowing Cas.

So yes, a lot of time has passed, but the feeling obviously stayed.

Soon enough he'll most likely start to walk into door jambs again and blame his brother's farts for poisoning the air and making him all dizzy for his lack of coordination.

At least that excuse had worked in the past. On several occasions.

But on the other hand Sam used to be around all the time back then and, most importantly, had been about ten years old and still believed most of the bullshit that came out of his big brother's mouth. Nowadays that wouldn't hold up for like a millisecond.

So yes, Dean might be screwed.

But still, it's utterly pathetic to get worked up by a single letter.

Isn't it?

So in the end he chides himself for being such a frigging coward and rips the envelope open before he can talk himself out of it again.

“ _Hello, Dean”_

Ah fuck.

Dean closes his eyes as he looks at the very familiar greeting and he can't help hearing Cas' voice in his head. So deep and gravelly, so very uncharacteristic for a fifteen-year-old. Dean wonders whether over time it got even more intense and he feels himself shuddering involuntarily.

Damn.

“ _Hello, Dean_

_The other day I saw a tiny dog who looked exactly like the one Mrs. Henderson from down the road used to own. Remember that small shaggy mutt who hated you for no apparent reason? I can't recall her name now – was it Rosie? Romy? –, but I surely will never forget how agitated she got whenever she spotted you. Like you were her arch nemesis and she had do everything in her power to defeat you._

_I seriously don't know what that dog's problem was, to be honest. I mean, you were moderately pleasant, smelled like either pie or bacon most of the time, and though you used to be a dick on occasion you never were an asshole toward animals, so I don't think she had a personal vendetta against you. Till this day I couldn't figure out what her problem was with you and I'm sure that unanswered question will bring me into an early grave._

_However, the memory of you getting chased through the neighborhood right to top of a tree by her on that beautiful summer morning will always be very close to my heart and it actually might be worth my very timely death. It's quite a shame smartphones weren't a thing back then, I would have loved to record it to watch your personal struggle with that wild and dangerous animal over and over many years later._

_I'm sure it would have been a longtime hit on youtube._

_Always regretful about that,_

_Castiel”_

Dean blinks.

Okay.

He can honestly say he didn't expect _that_.

He anticipated a long letter with Cas depicting and bluntly analyzing everything Dean said during that interview. Him going over every single word Dean said in that stupid moment of weakness.

But this? It sounds like Cas is picking up a normal conversation. As though nothing out of the ordinary happened. As though they've been writing each other letters the entire time and there is nothing special about this at all.

Dean stares at it, for a moment absolutely convinced it's not a recent letter but one of those from twenty years ago. It sure sounds like it.

But then, of course, his rational mind is able to catch up. Next to the fact that it was sent to his fan address surely the date Cas, the nerdy nerd, put on the right corner is a clear indication that this note has been written about a week ago.

Dean re-reads the words, over and over, not sure what to think, not sure how to react. And it takes him an embarrassingly long time to notice the phone number Cas scribbled on the bottom.

Dean gapes at it, at the numbers, at the swift line of Cas' hand. It looks like it's been added later on, as though he initially didn't consider leaving his number for Dean to find before eventually that thought crossed his mind.

It's a clear invitation. A chance.

Admittedly, Dean just got Cas' address as well and could just send a letter back, like in the good old days, but when he hears Cas' voice in his head, when he looks at the guy's handwriting and gets super nostalgic by that alone, he just knows he can't wait that long.

Screw that damned interview. Screw all the humiliation.

It's _Cas_.

Who obviously still thinks about malicious and dangerous dogs with a very displaced fondness. Who talks in his letter like no time has passed at all. As though Dean isn't a rich and influential Hollywood actor but still the stupid neighbor's kid who laughs too loudly and tells lame puns whenever the situation calls to him.

So in the end Dean is absolutely unable to do anything else but grab his cell phone and dial the number. Even though his anxiety grips him forcefully, its grasp getting tighter with every single digit pushed, and tries to talk him out of it the entire way.

He still keeps going, though.

And then it rings once.

Twice.

Three times.

Four –

“Hello?”

The voice is deep. _Way_ deeper than Dean remembers. But at the same time so achingly familiar he almost finds himself on the verge of crying.

He makes an embarrassing noise, nearly like a freaking sob, and for a moment he completely freezes up. He stares in shock at his own reflection in the TV, noticing how small and fragile he looks all of a sudden, while his mind screams at him _to make all of this stop now, this was a stupid idea, why didn't you FUCKING LISTEN??_

Dean could just easily cancel the call right now and Cas would never know who had been on the other end. Dean would switch to letter writing instead, because it's safer and allows him more time to think about what he wants to say, and Cas would never learn that that unknown number which called him out of the blue one day for a few seconds used to be Dean.

“Hello?” Cas asks again.

And _God_.

Dean grits his teeth, hating the fact that he's even more ridiculous than he could've ever imagined. Here he is, hearing Cas' voice for the first time _in decades_ , and he freaks out like an idiot who never had any human contact before.

So instead of throwing his phone far away and cursing himself for the rest of his life he decides here and then to follow Cas' example.

Don't make a big deal out of it. Be yourself. Act like it hadn't been over twenty years that have passed.

“ _Dude_ ,” he ends up exclaiming, accentuating the word like a weirdo and feeling fairly relieved that Cas can't see his following blush, “what _the hell_? You shouldn't just put your phone number out there into the world. Any freak might pick it up and harass you during your lunch break.”

There is stunned silence for a moment on the other end of the line.

And then, “Dean?”

 _Damn_ , it feels amazing hearing his name out of Cas' mouth again.

Dean almost forgot how awesome it sounds.

“Who else?” Dean snorts, praying loudly to God or whoever might listen in that his awkwardness wouldn't travel through the phone connection. “You can call yourself lucky that I got a hold of your number before anyone else did. Who knows what might've happened otherwise?”

For a moment Cas remains quiet, most likely shocked by these unexpected turn of events, but then he obviously decides to fuck it and chuckles instead. “I'm not sure I should count myself lucky anytime soon. After all, there _is_ indeed currently a very rude person harassing me –”

“Don't play cute, Cas.”

“Oh, you know I'm always cute, Winchester.”

Dean grins widely, from one ear to the next, as he feels all the anxiety drop off him like it's never been there in the first place. He can't even remember what he's been so nervous about.

It's _Cas_.

Of course there is nothing to freak out about.

“And what even is this letter?” Dean fake-complains. “I mean, _the dog_? That's the best you could come up with?” He huffs. “Weak, man. Ridiculously weak.”

Cas makes a humming noise. “I can't remember you ever being that critical about our subjects of conversation before.”

“Well –”

“I mean, one time we spent actual _weeks_ talking about Sam's ingrown toenail. That wasn't exactly the height of human interaction either.” Cas laughs lowly. “So I don't see anything wrong with that dog.”

“Screw you!” Dean grumbles. The effect, however, is far from powerful as he can't keep the corners of his mouth from twitching upwards. “How dare you remind me of this vicious creature torturing my teenage years?”

“Are you talking about me or the dog?”

“Both!”

Cas snorts. “We aim to please.”

He's apparently still the same little shit Dean used to know.

Best news ever!

“You actually don't deserve any kind of explanation after this,” Dean points out, “but I guess I can be generous …”

“How very noble of you.”

“Her name was Rusty,” Dean says and this time he just isn't able to contain his chuckle. “The dog, I mean. Not sure why she got that name in the first place. I never got close enough to Mrs. Henderson to ask her.” Damn, he hadn't thought about that little menace in decades and now he can't stop smiling at the memory. “And that little devil hated me because I had the audacity to sneeze right into her face when I was petting her one time. It was totally an accident, just some pollen flying into my nose, but she obviously deemed it a declaration of war. At least she surely never forgot about it.”

Cas laughs at that, low and rich, and it's so wonderful to hear Dean's almost ready to cry.

Why the hell did they wait so long for this?

Why the fuck did they even lose contact in the first place?

Back then it seemed like the reasonable thing to do, at least from Dean's point of view, but teenagers are young and dumb and clearly don't know what's good for them.

Idiots.

But now they're here, many years later and still somehow the same, at least where it counts, and mighty emotions threaten to overwhelm Dean.

So he smiles, soft and happy, and whispers, “Hey, Cas.”

Because at the end of the day, how could he not?

And Cas' following smile is almost palpable through the phone line as he answers, so gentle it's close to fatal, “Hello, Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope you enjoyed those idiots reconnecting ;)
> 
> In the next chapter you will see a lot more of that!
> 
> Until then, my friends 😊


	8. After All This Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, guys, you're seriously blowing me away!!
> 
> The response to this story and especially the last chapter had me in gleeful giggles for the rest of the week 💗 I love you all for making this whole experience extra amazing!
> 
> And I hope you're gonna enjoy this week's installment as well.
> 
> Originally this chapter and the next one were supposed to be just one, but it got WAY out of proportions length wise and I decided to split it up. Those idiots seriously have a lot of catching up to do, it seems >.<
> 
> Tho the extra chapter is actually not so bad – at least for me and to an extent also for you – because it gives me some extra time to write this story along and keep the weekly schedule up. And since I've got two weeks of vacation next week and basically nothing to do because all my plans have been canceled I certainly plan to make it my mission to write as much as possible :D
> 
> For now though I hope you're gonna enjoy this chapter!
> 
> -

Castiel can't believe it.

Dean Winchester. He's talking with _Dean Winchester_.

The boy who always stole his cookies. Who had an opinion about everything, no matter how irrational and stupid. Who liked to dance in the rain and jump through puddles like an excited toddler. Who got almost fluent in another language just by watching Spanish soap operas on TV. Who adored the hell out of his little brother and wasn't too shy to show and prove this to the whole wide world on a daily basis.

Who, at some point, became Castiel's best friend.

A position no one else was able to fill in the last twenty years. It's always been Dean.

When Castiel wrote that letter he actually didn't expect Dean to call him. Sure, he put his phone number on it, but he anticipated a text or maybe an answering letter. To actually _hear_ him, though – Castiel can't say he's prepared for this.

But, as always, it's so easy with Dean. Like they just had talked with each other the other day about their school work or their latest book recommendations.

It just doesn't feel like so much time has passed since they last interacted. It's both weird and at the same time entirely unsurprising.

“Okay, listen, dude,” Dean says, suddenly sighing deeply, “I know why you've been contacting me right now of all times …”

He sounds awkward and uncomfortable and Castiel surely can't blame him. He recalls Dean's face during the interview when he jolted out of his daydream and suddenly realized he had talked about his teenage emotions to an huge audience. He must have felt rather vulnerable in that moment. And probably many other moments since.

On first instinct Castiel wants to soothe him, to reassure him that everything is alright with them, but he's got the inkling this wouldn't be very helpful with Dean. His mind sometimes goes to very strange places and talking about your feelings is absolutely the very wrong approach to reach him. At least not if you want him to feel relaxed again.

So instead of being gentle and understanding Castiel goes the very road he went so many times before with Dean. The one of the teasing friend.

“You mean, because you announced your gigantic crush on me on national TV?”

Dean makes an indignant noise, a mix between spluttering and growling, and Castiel feels so familiar with this his heart starts to seize.

“Don't let it get into your head, Novak,” Dean grumbles. “I was a really stupid kid back in the days –”

There is an edge in his tone now, but it seems more playful than anything else.

Apparently the old ways still work wonders on Dean even nowadays.

“Oh please, I'm flattered,” Castiel cuts in, laughing happily as he senses some of the tension in his muscles draining away. “I don't think anyone ever had a crush on me before. It's an exciting experience.”

It kind of is.

However, Dean surely sees that differently when he scoffs loudly at Castiel's statement.

“You're a moron if you honstly think that,” Dean informs him. “People have been crushing on you like _all the time_.”

 _Seriously_? Castiel highly doubts that. “Yeah, right.”

“Remember Lizzy? Who lived at the end of our street?” Dean wonders while a smile flickers over Castiel's lips at the memory of that little girl. “She was a menace to _everyone_ , myself included, but _you_ – she adored you. Brought you more flowers within a week than I got my whole freaking life.”

Castiel sighs. “Well, okay, one little girl –”

“Dave? That _pimply_ kid who worked at the library. Always got so damned red in the face as soon as you showed up.”

“I don't –”

“Your classmate Hannah? She didn't want to work all these projects with you only because you were a genius.”

“But –”

“And that Alfie guy? Damn, he was crazy about you. In the end he even was ballsy enough to ask you out on a date and you had NO. IDEA.”

At this Castiel pauses, trying very hard to relive the memory. He recalls a colorful diner, a chatty waitress and a surprisingly amazing burger. Alfie had been considerate and attentive the entire time, asking all the important questions, smiling constantly. Castiel remembers having a fairly good time.

But a date?

No, that word has never been mentioned, either before, during or after their little engagement.

“That wasn't a date,” Castiel objects eventually, feeling quite confident in his assessment. “Alfie only invited me to lunch as a thank you for helping him with his homework.”

Dean chuckles, making it more than obvious that he thinks Castiel an oblivious idiot.

“That's what _you_ thought,” Dean says. “But dude, he totally meant it as a date.”

Castiel remains silent for a while, mulling this over thoroughly. “Are you sure?”

“ _Absolutely_ sure,” Dean emphasizes. “And I bet even today people are crushing on you like crazy.”

He sounds so sure about that, like there is absolutely no chance in hell it could be anything else, that Castiel actually finds himself blushing. And at the same time very grateful that Dean can't see his face right now.

“Yeah, I bet the boys and girls in your neighborhood are totally mad about you,” Dean teases, the good humor in his tone the most uplifting thing Castiel can imagine. “They're probably baking you cakes and cookies and do the whole goo-goo eyes thing with you …”

Castiel merely rolls his eyes in fondness. “Our house is fairly secluded. Apart from an elderly couple living a bit down the road there is not much of a neighborhood to speak of.”

“An elderly couple, huh?” Dean's following grin is so _alive_ Castiel actually feels it on his skin. “And I guess they bring you cakes and cookies on a regular basis?”

Castiel grimaces. He hates confirming his suspicion, but on the other hand he can't just lie. “They're for my children,” he hastily deflects instead. “Nothing more. They're just a very nice couple.”

“Uh-hm.”

“You're impossible,” Castiel grumbles. “Please don't put any ridiculous ideas into my head. My neighbors are not crushing on me.”

“Then how about your job?” Dean prods. “What do you do?”

Oh dear God.

Castiel shuts his eyes and seriously considers not answering. Because he knows exactly how Dean will react to that, under these circumstances.

But in the end he can't just stay silent. So, highly reluctantly, he responds, “I'm the principal at the local high school.”

At first it is quiet on the other end of the line.

And then, just as expected, Dean bursts out laughing.

Very loudly.

“So you're working in a building filled with hormonal teenagers?” Dean wheezes, obviously having the time of his life. “Yeah, sorry, dude, but there are _definitely_ lots of people crushing on you.”

Castiel bites his bottom lip. On a rational level he's very aware that this is most likely true – teenagers are fairly prone to a whole new set of emotions and authority figures like Castiel might look appealing in that overwhelming light –, but he sincerely hates thinking about this. Granted, teenage crushes are usually quite harmless and the most normal thing in the world, however, it still makes him a bit awkward.

“Can we not talk about this, please?” he pleads. “These kids are a lot to handle on an average day, I don't wanna put anything else on my already full platter. Besides, I like to think that most of them are way too afraid of me to develop any kind of crush to begin with.”

“I don't know, Cas, fear can be a powerful aphrodisiac –”

“ _Dean_!”

“Fine, fine, if you don't wanna hear about the prom queen crushing on you –”

Castiel pulls a face. “I think this year it's rather the prom king.”

At least the boy had been looking at him funny for quite a while now.

Dean, meanwhile, seems quite delighted by that information. “ _Really_?”

“Let's just _never_ talk about it!” Castiel urges. “The way I'm concerned nobody had a crush on me for many, _many_ years, okay?”

“But what about your wife then?” Dean asks, suddenly a very strange waver in his voice. “I assume she had a crush on you at some point. Probably still does.”

Castiel frowns. “My … wife?”

“Yeah,” Dean says. “I guess she didn't think you're all that bad, right?”

He sounds weird all of a sudden. _Very_ weird, to be exact. And Castiel can't help being entirely confused whether Dean is just automatically assuming he might be married or whether he knows something.

At least he seems confident enough. Like a guy who knows and who isn't simply guessing.

Did Dean look him up before? Granted, his information is gravelly outdated, but at some point it had been true.

Castiel presses his lips into a thin line as he's restraining a smile. The mere possibility of Dean searching for background information about him is actually quite a nice one, he has to confess.

“Well, I'm not sure my ex-wife ever had a crush on me,” Castiel answers, his tone light. “But I guess she liked me just fine, at the very least.”

Actually he's pretty sure Daphne never had such feelings for him, as he didn't have for her. They were fond of each other, yes, but they merely married because they thought it was the right thing to do. Because they assumed it was expected of them. Their fairly religious families had been delighted, at least, and Castiel surely didn't mind having Daphne at his side. He loved her, still does in a way, but it had taken some time for both of them to realize the affection they felt for one another had never really been of the romantic nature.

So yes, no crushes involved there as well.

“Ex-wife?” Dean sounds even stranger now, as though something is clogging up his throat. “I'm … I'm sorry to hear that, man.”

“It's alright,” Castiel says, shrugging his shoulders. “We split up amicably over ten years ago. And all of it brought both Claire and Jack into my life, so I don't regret a single thing.”

How could he ever?

Claire and Jack are the light of his life and Daphne is still one of his closest friends. So why should he ever regret anything?

“So … you share custody, I assume?” Dean asks tentatively. “Or …?”

“Technically, yes,” Castiel explains. “Daphne moved to Canada shortly after the divorce, though, so it's not like the children stay at her place every other weekend. She got an amazing job offer and now she's traveling a lot for her employer, so in the end it made sense to let the kids be with me permanently.”

Not to mention that Daphne eventually realized that she is not the mother material she always thought she would be. Of course she loves Claire and Jack dearly and would gladly give her life for either of them in a heartbeat, but at the end of the day she mainly decided to become a mother because, yet again, it was expected of her. Her parents, Castiel's family, society itself – everyone put some kind of pressure on her.

At the time Castiel didn't even notice this was happening. Daphne seemed excited to have children and, at least at some point, she genuinely was. But when the time came and Claire became a part of their lives she realized that reality wasn't as she always dreamed about. And it didn't really get any better when Jack joined them eventually.

Castiel had no idea about any of this back then. Daphne hid her doubts fairly well and only opened up about her true feelings when they agreed on the divorce. For a while she was really miserable, always telling herself that something is wrong with her, that she is a bad person and woman for not enjoying motherhood like apparently all the other women around her.

It took a lot of persuasion both from Castiel himself as well as the professional she eventually decided to seek out after she cried herself to sleep one too many times to finally own up to her personal emotions and admit to herself that having these feelings is not a flaw in any way.

It's been quite a journey for her, a long path of self-reflection, fear, doubt, and the eventual detachment from her overbearing parents, before she found her own sort of peace in the end.

And Castiel will always be very proud of her for achieving that.

However, he doesn't mention any of this to Dean. He still cares about his friend very much, no question about that, and he can easily see himself revealing his deepest secrets to him without even hesitating, but Daphne's story is not his to tell.

“Claire and Jack keep close contact to her, though,” Castiel continues. “Skype calls at least twice a week, not to mention all the messages they send each other regularly. Claire at least seems quite fond of something called 'memes', whatever that is, and Jack apparently sends Daphne pictures of anything he deems interesting. And considering the fact he deems about _everything_ interesting I'm sure her phone is close to dying at this point.”

Dean chuckles lowly at that, sounding a bit less tense now.

“And due to her job she is close to our area a few times a year,” Castiel says. “So most of the time she stays at the guestroom for a couple of days and spends her time with the kids. And since a few years both Claire and Jack travel to Canada during summer break for some weeks and enjoy the wilderness and moose while I have the house all to myself.”

Dean laughs. “Sounds like relaxing holidays.”

“It surely is.”

Of course Castiel loves his children and revels in having them around him, but once in a while a little break is actually quite nice. Even if he can't help missing them nonetheless.

“Well, sounds like you've got a good thing running there,” Dean points out. “I mean, juggling all that parenting while living in different countries and all. Can't be easy sometimes.”

He's certainly not wrong.

“Usually Daphne and I interact on the same wavelength, so it's not much of a hassle, but one time or another we surely had our disagreements,” Castiel admits. “For instance, Claire is about to tackle her driver's license and Daphne insists on buying her a car while I personally vote for Claire to chip in at least a little bit so she learns some valuable lessons about responsibility and hard work. I mean, so many teenagers nowadays don't have any clue how to handle money properly and it's sad …”

He sighs as he feels himself once again reminded at his last conversation with Daphne about that very topic. It's been very exhausting.

“I get you, man,” Dean says, seemingly fairly genuine. “I mean, I got my dad's car when I was old enough to drive, but he told me straight forward that I had to be a responsible car owner and pay for any parts I'd need in the future or whatever. Not to mention insurance and all that. At the time I had a job at a garage for a few hours per week and that certainly made me save a bunch of my income for anything my Baby might require eventually. I mean, at the end of the day it was more of a good allowance than anything else, of course, and my Dad definitely would've chipped in if the car would've needed bigger repairs without a second of hesitation, but it was still foremost me taking care of Baby and I kinda seriously liked that, to be honest. Lots of my classmates, however, spent all their money – or more precisely, their parents' money – on stupid shit, like it was growing on trees. Pathetic, really.”

Castiel finds himself nodding, despite the fact that Dean can't see him right now.

It feels refreshing to have someone agreeing with him.

“Don't get me wrong, Claire is a very independent and reasonable young woman,” he can't help pointing out. “She's working at the local theater for a while now and even before that she proved quite the common sense when it came to spending her money. At least she never really asked me for any extra cash. Unless it was something important, like her ancient laptop dying on her or whatever.” Castiel shrugs his shoulders. “But like you said, chipping in, even if it's just a small amount, makes you feel like you seriously _own_ the car. I had to do it myself as well when I needed such transportation for the first time as a teenager. Granted, that was more due to the fact that my parents didn't have all that much money to begin with, but nonetheless I believe it's a good lesson to learn.”

“But your ex-wife thinks differently?”

Castiel sighs. “I believe it's more about her still feeling guilty about the divorce and leaving the children behind than anything else at this point.”

And to be fair, Claire had been quite upset about it at the beginning. But it subdued over time and now Daphne and her daughter seem closer than ever.

Nevertheless Daphne still carries that bad conscience with her and that'll probably never change.

“Ah well, if nothing works, just tell her that Dean Winchester had to pay for his own car as well in his teenage years,” Dean suggests, chuckling. “At least it didn't hurt me and I turned out alright in the end, don't you think? So that might turn her around. ”

“You might have a point,” Castiel agrees, amused at the prospect of telling Daphne just that. “You paid for your car, you got yourself a good job, became rich somewhere along the way and now probably _you're_ the one who buys his father a lot of cars, right? Or maybe even that Harley he had been talking about?”

Castiel smiles widely, fond memories of John Winchester showing up in front of his inner eye. Grilling some steaks for their barbecue. Rambling about that Harley he would like to have at some point and Mary always glaring at him, clearly not happy about that. Him bending over the Impala's popped-up hood and patiently explaining his son the ins and outs.

Dean, however, suddenly falls silent. “Um …” Again, he sounds weird. But in a totally different way. “My Dad's dead, Cas.”

Castiel freezes. Of course in over twenty years a lot can change, but he honestly didn't expect that.

“He is?” he asks, feeling like an idiot for seeming so surprised, but unable to stop himself. “Oh, Dean … I'm so sorry. I had no idea.”

“Dude, didn't you read my bio or something?” Dean wonders.

“Well, I'm enjoying your movies and everything, but … reading your life story on the internet always felt very strange, in a way,” Castiel confesses.

One time he tried, on a very cold and lonely night a few years back, but as soon as he read the first line of Dean's _wikipedia_ page Castiel felt rather uncomfortable and instantly stopped. It seemed kind of wrong to learn about Dean's life in such an impersonal way.

“Not to mention that you're known for not sharing all that much private stuff to begin with,” Castiel adds. “So I never really … um, bothered.”

“So you're a blank slate?”

Castiel tilts his head. “Well, of course I heard some things here and there on the news, so I'm not entirely 'blank'. But it's close to that, I think.”

For a moment Dean stays quiet, apparently contemplating this new information.

“Well, the public knows about my dad,” he says eventually. “He died twelve years ago. Heart attack.”

Castiel's chest clenches at the news. He thinks of Dean, probably absolutely heartbroken. Sam, trying to keep it together and mainly crying in privacy. And Mary. Always so strong, always so proud and beautiful. This must have hit her quite hard.

Twelve years ago. The kids just out of the house for a couple of years. Castiel can only imagine what Mary and John had planned with all that intimate time together.

Before fate took its course.

“I'm so deeply sorry, Dean.”

Dean takes a deep breath. “It's okay, Cas,” he says. “I mean, it's not _okay_ , but … it's been a long time ago. I learned to live with it.”

More than anything Castiel wishes he could pull the man into a tight embrace right now. “But still …”

“My Dad and I … the last few years our relationship was, um, strained, so to speak,” Dean admits, his voice low. And Castiel finds himself wondering whether this part of the story is also something known to the public. “When I got into acting he wasn't all that thrilled about it. Even back in the beginning when I just was doing some brief stuff on the sideline to earn some extra cash. I guess for him the whole thing wasn't 'manly' enough and actually not 'hard work' to begin with. So yeah, we had some arguments about that.” He sighs. “And when Benny came into my life – Benny is my agent, past and present – and I got more serious about the entire thing, as an actual career and not just a side job, Dad was far from happy about that. Always pestered me to pursue a 'real' job. To 'do something' with my life.”

Castiel actually can easily relate to that. His parents wished for him to become a lawyer or doctor, something 'prestigious', something they could brag to their friends about, and till this day they remain deeply disappointed that he decided to become a principal at an 'ordinary' high school instead.

“Funnily enough Dad didn't even live to see my breakthrough,” Dean says, a bitterness in his tone. “I mean, close to the end he started to warm up to it in a way. Or maybe he just realized that he couldn't fight the famous Winchester stubbornness. So yeah, he began to arrange himself, but I'm pretty certain deep down he was still praying for me to see the errors of my way.”

“Dean …”

“When he died I wasn't anyone big yet,” Dean explains. “I mean, I managed to make a living, but it was barely more than what I could've earned as a mechanic or whatever. Some months I even had trouble coming up with the rent. But I kinda fell in love with the job and wasn't ready to give it up just yet and prove my father right. I was determined to pull it through and give it my best.” He inhales deeply. “Sometimes I wonder what Dad would say to me now? If he would change his mind about the whole thing?”

“I don't want to presume anything, of course, but I remember a man very proud of his sons,” Castiel points out. “No matter what you did. Big things, small things. And I can't fathom him ever being truly disappointed in what you achieved. You might have chosen a different path than he anticipated and he had some problems adjusting to that, but I'm sure he never stopped being proud of you.”

Dean stays silent for a long while after that.

And Castiel lets him because he knows he needs it.

“ _Damn_ , Cas,” Dean whispers a few moments later. “I really forgot how wise you are.”

Castiel can't help a smirk. “I will be more than happy to remind you of that over and over.”

Dean chuckles. “Thanks, man.”

His voice sounds lighter again. Less weighed down.

“And if it's all the same, _I_ am very delighted you went into acting,” Castiel emphasizes. “In the end it brought you back into my life. Without you going all crazy over your crush on me during that interview I'm not sure we would've ever found each other again.”

Castiel actually feels Dean smile softly on the other end of the line.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “I'm quite happy about my loose mouth too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I hope you enjoyed it ^^
> 
> Next week they'll continue to catch up – about Sam and Mary and Dean's career and Cas' kids and his life and whatnot – and there might even be a video call involved ;)
> 
> So I hope that's something to look forward to!
> 
> And I don't know if you celebrate it or not (in general or just this year), but to everyone it may concern, Happy Easter 💗🐰🐰
> 
> And to everyone else I wish an amazing week as well, of course!


	9. The Winchester Effect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my friends!  
> My AMAZING, AWESOME, friends :))
> 
> This is, as promised, the second part of the last chapter!  
> Even extra long this time.
> 
> And we're jumping right back in, without further ado :D
> 
> Have fun with it!!
> 
> -

“How is Sam?”

Castiel oftentimes wondered about the younger Winchester. Sam had been smart and inquisitive, even as a ten-year-old more than capable keeping up with the rest of them. Castiel just knew back then that he would have a bright future.

“Oh, Sammy is fine,” Dean says, the familiar pride still in his voice over two decades later. “Had a growth spurt in his teenage years which hasn't really stopped since. He's barely inches away from having to duck every time he walks through a door.” Dean's fond smile is almost audible through the telephone connection. “Got into Stanford, full ride and everything. The nerd.”

Castiel chuckles. Dean always loved to use that term on his brother – and on Castiel as well – with the most affectionate tone humanity had ever heard. Like there is no sweeter, more powerful endearment.

“Did he eventually end up as an astronaut, like he dreamed about?” Castiel wonders. Naturally Sam had been a child at the time and little boys and girls constantly enjoy the fantasy of themselves walking on the moon, but Castiel surely wouldn't be surprised if Sam Winchester actually would've made it come true in the end.

Dean, however, only laughs. “Nah, man, space got out of fashion pretty quickly,” he says. “Got into law instead. He works for the DA's Office in Albany County now and in his sparse time he volunteers as a legal adviser for a Women's Center.”

Castiel finds himself nodding, not at all astonished by that information. Sam using his intellect for something good certainly sounds like him.

“You must be proud,” he points out.

“Yeah, he turned out alright, I guess.”

It certainly sounds a little more than just 'alright', but Castiel keeps himself from teasing him about it. He always found Dean's pride in his brother's achievements quite adorable, if he's being honest, and he never really had the heart to mock him for it. 

“And what about your mother?” he asks instead.

“She got promoted several times since we last saw each other,” Dean tells him, sounding equally pleased by his mother's accomplishments. “She's a freaking colonel now, can you believe that? All the poor guys serving under her surely have a lot to put up with.”

Castiel grins at that. Yes, the Mary Winchester he remembers clearly had a warm and motherly side to her. She doted on her sons and did everything in her power to give them a happy home, filled with love and a mix of mediocre homemade food and takeout several times a week.

But she also was a hardass. A few times he witnessed her handling some of her cadets and the men had been listening religiously to every single she uttered, obviously terrified they might miss anything important. Granted, there had always been an amused twinkle in her eyes when one of them flinched too hard at even the tiniest motion by her and till this day Castiel considers it one of the most entertaining things he ever watched, but the men still stayed obedient and respectful, not daring to even crack a smile in her presence.

She was tough. She wasn't afraid to voice her own opinion. Her arguments with John were loud and involved many confusing military terms. She once drove an obtrusive mailmen away only by hissing at him. For people she couldn't stand she always baked exaggeratedly horrible cakes and pies, handed them over with a fake smile and afterwards basked in the knowledge that nobody would be able to call her vindictive for 'making such an effort'.

Castiel truly adored that woman back then and, as he is realizing now, that apparently didn't really change over the years.

“She's been permanently stationed at New Jersey for almost ten years now,” Dean explains. “And according to her superiors she's gonna stay there until her retirement, if that's what she wants. I think for now she's quite happy about not having to move all the fucking time.”

Castiel surely can relate. It's probably already not all that much fun in younger years and to think about doing it over and over again with advancing age seems even less amusing.

So it's nice to know she finally found a permanent residence.

“That's one of the reasons Sam looked for a job in an area close to her,” Dean continues. “I mean, he graduated from Stanford and he used to work for a firm in Palo Alto at first, but when it seemed like Mom found herself settling down in New Jersey he finally admitted how sick he was of the Californian weather and looked for an opening at the East Coast instead. That's how he ended up in Albany. It may not be exactly in the neighborhood, but it also only about a three-hour drive, so there is that. It's certainly manageable.”

Castiel smiles softly. He's definitely glad to hear that the Winchester family is still staying so close together.

“So Mary lives in New Jersey and Sam ended up in New York? What about you?”

The question is innocent enough and for everyone else it certainly isn't a big deal, but when Dean hesitates to answer Castiel all of a sudden remembers the unique situation they're in and he hastily backpedals, “ _Of course_ you don't have to tell me! Sorry, I didn't think – I mean, I guess your location is a well-kept secret and naturally I don't expect you to reveal it to me. I apologize for being so stupid –”

“No, Cas, it's alright,” Dean cuts in, amusement in his voice. “Sorry, I guess it's turned into a knee-jerk reaction to avoid answering such questions. You can't even _fathom_ the amount of people who tried to get that info out of me over the years. So yeah, I guess I'm used to keeping my mouth shut.”

Castiel can surely understand his reservations. Though he seems to be genuinely happy with what he's doing, the entire industry is a tough business regardless and you just have to be cautious who to trust. Dean probably learned early on to evade such personal inquiries and since then ingrained it into his DNA.

“But, Cas …” Dean chuckles now. “It's _you_ , man. You can ask me anything. No limits.”

“But –”

“C'mon, Cas, don't act cute.”

“But I might not be the person you once knew before,” Castiel points out. “Maybe I'll sell your private information to the next big magazine as soon as we have finished this phone call. How should you know it's safe to tell me anything?”

Of course he would never betray Dean's trust, the mere thought not even crossing his mind, but Dean certainly can't know that. A lot of time has passed since they spent their evenings in the tree house and their warm weekend afternoons underneath the oak tree, reading and discussing books they recommended each other beforehand. They've been young and innocent back then and _a lot_ has happened since.

Dean, however, sighs as though he thinks Castiel a gigantic idiot. “Don't be ridiculous, buddy.”

“I'm not, Dean,” Castiel emphasizes. “I just want to make sure you're not doing something you might regret later.”

Dean stays quiet for a moment, obviously mulling over Castiel's words.

Then he orders, “Switch to video call.”

Castiel blinks at that. “What?”

“I wanna see your stupid face,” Dean growls. “C'mon, don't leave me hanging.”

It takes some maneuvering and step-to-step instructions because Castiel has always been slow with modern technology, but eventually he masters the task and soon enough Dean shows up on his screen.

Castiel feels his heartbeat pick up at the sight. Naturally he's seen a lot of Dean in the last couple of years – movies, TV shows, interviews, magazines –, but it still feels entirely different to see him like that. It's private, it's intimate. It's just the two of them.

And as always he looks dashing, even without the make-up and the thousand cameras and lights showing off his best features. His hair is a mess, like he just rolled out of bed, his light green Henley seems loose and worn, and the stubble on his face appears a few days old. Overall it's a picture Dean would never leak to the public and it feels so _real_ Castiel senses his throat tightening.

Dean, on the other hand, gets a peek of Castiel for the first time in over twenty years. He blinks a few times, as though his eyes have trouble to adjust, before he eventually mumbles, “Damn, you got big.”

Castiel lifts a brow. “What?”

Dean blushes instantly and Castiel decides then and there that this is the most glorious thing he's ever witnessed.

“Uh, I mean, um, you've grown, quite a lot, I mean …” Dean stammers, rubbing the back of his neck and trying hard to avoid Castiel's gaze. “Y'know, tall, all grown-up or whatever …”

Castiel chuckles, surely entertained by seeing Dean squirming that much. “Well, it happens, Dean,” he points out. “It's quite a natural progress, actually …”

“Oh, don't be a smartass –”

“People grow, people get older,” Castiel continues, enjoying the fact that he's able to grin right into Dean's face for the first time in over twenty years way too much. “At least I hope you didn't expect the same sixteen-year-old boy showing up on your screen –”

“You know, for someone claiming you changed all that much you're still the same mean bastard you once were,” Dean points out, his voice fond as though he just offered the sweetest endearment imaginable to mankind.

Castiel merely smiles back, not really sure how to react.

And for a while they just look at each other, like back in the days. People always say he stares too much and it's probably true considering the huge amount of men and women he made uncomfortable with his intense eye contact and prolonged gazing. 

Dean, however … Dean had always been different. Instead of averting his eyes and telling him he should stop, he reciprocated. He looked back, deep into Castiel's soul. For way longer than it was strictly necessary.

“You wouldn't sell my personal information to anyone, would you?” Though it's framed as a question, it's clear that Dean already knows the answer.

So Castiel replies, “No, never!” because it's the truth.

“So that's good enough for me.”

Castiel still somehow feels the need to argue, to make him at least consider to weigh his options and wait it out, but he instantly shuts his mouth as he realizes that this is also a two-way street. He looks into Dean's eyes and would have absolutely no problem revealing his most precious secrets to him in a heartbeat, as though they're still teenagers sitting in the Winchester's tree house. How can he blame Dean for feeling the same?

“I moved to New York as well,” Dean interrupts, jumping right back into their previous conversation. “I mean, for a long while I moved around a lot, at first with my family, as you very well know, and then for my job. Didn't see much need to settle down and I was used to that way of living. So why change a good thing?” He shrugs casually. “But first Mom and then Sam got that job in Albany and started talking about how he could imagine growing old there, how the landscape outside the city is ridiculously beautiful … it got me thinking, y'know?”

Castiel nods. He knows since a young age Dean grew accustomed to not staying at a place for very long, but more than once deep down Castiel detected a strong longing. For a home, for stability. For a special and safe place he could always come back to.

“So about two years ago I bought a little cottage close to Clarksville,” Dean goes on. “It's like a super tiny town about half an hour from Albany. I found the cottage by accident one day when I was browsing for a place to live. It's quite secluded, so that's a major plus, and it's been stupidly cheap since it was basically in ruins when I bought it. Hell, I could've managed to afford that thing in my teenage years.”

He laughs good-naturedly. “My friends and family berated me for getting such a dump, but damn, I dunno, Cas, when I saw the cottage I just felt something. Maybe it was a spark or mainly severe indigestion, as Sam claims, but yeah, I saw myself living there. So I snatched it up and started renovating the entire trashcan.”

Castiel smiles at the enthusiasm in Dean's tone. He's obviously still very happy with his choice and it's a wonderful thing to watch.

“Most of the stuff I actually did by myself,” Dean tells him, trying for nonchalant. “I kinda missed working with my hands and getting myself dirty and all that stuff. The house became my little DIY project. I only got some experts for electricity and plumbing, but the rest – a 100% Dean Winchester creation.”

Castiel feels so much affection all of sudden the urge to pack a suitcase and travel to Dean's home to see for himself is almost suffocating.

“You were always good with your hands,” he says instead. And then flushes slightly when he registers how it may sound.

Dean, meanwhile, winks at him, the bastard. “I know, buddy.”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “You're still a five-year-old, aren't you?”

“According to Sam, yes.”

Castiel grins lopsidedly in response while at the same time thousand questions start to burn on his tongue. How exactly did he find the place? How long did it take to fix it up? Is it actually finished or still a work in process? Is he living there all alone?

Especially the last question makes his chest tighten a bit. He reads a lot in the press and most of it is probably just a made-up mess. At least the amount of dates Dean supposedly goes to on a regular basis is barely manageable, particularly for someone with a busy schedule like him. Hooking up with a model in L.A. and just a few hours later flirting with a cowboy in Texas certainly doesn't seem possible.

So yes, Castiel never really believed the media in that regard.

But of course it's not that far-fetched to consider that there actually might be a significant other. Dean certainly knows how to keep his life private and if there is seriously someone he is in a serious relationship with he could easily hide that fact from the world. Perhaps he made himself a cuddly little love nest for himself and his partner, deep in the woods of New York, and apart from his closest family and friends no one has a clue about it.

Castiel doesn't want to pry, he _really_ doesn't, but at the same time it would be an important aspect of Dean's life, right? And since they're catching up … 

“No, I've got the place all to myself,” Dean answers casually the question Castiel apparently blurted into his face without even realizing it. “I know, according to the press I'm dating people constantly without catching a break, but to be perfectly honest, my life is super boring in that matter. I can't even remember the last date I've been to.”

The weird feeling within Castiel's chest dissipates hearing those news. “I'm sorry,” he says nonetheless, even though he feels weirdly insincere about it.

Dean, however, only shrugs, obviously deeming this not a big deal. “It's fine. I don't feel like I'm missing anything, you know?” He huffs a laugh. “I guess I'm getting old, man.”

Castiel blinks as he wonders how he should react to this. He isn't exactly an expert in that area, considering he hasn't been with anyone since his divorce (and even during his marriage there wasn't much romance to speak of), so he feels utterly clueless right now.

Thankfully, though, Dean doesn't seem keen on delving any further into that topic either.

Instead he smoothly changes the subject.

“And I see you moved to Lawrence?” Dean asks, a smile on his lips as his body seems to relax at the safe topic of conversation. Castiel feels something loosen in him as well and for a moment he's way too happy about that to actually dwell on what Dean just asked him. But when the actor's gaze turns more expectant, apparently waiting for an answer, Castiel forces himself to put his mind into the here and now.

And he responds with a confused frown. “How do you know about Lawrence?”

Dean chuckles. “You sent me a letter, remember? With a return address.”

Oh right.

Castiel completely forgot about that.

But can he seriously be blamed, after a famous movie star suddenly called him on his phone absolutely out of the blue?

“Right, yes,” Castiel answers, clearing his throat as he tries to get his train of thoughts back on track. “I got a fairly great job offer I just couldn't refuse.”

There is an amused glint in Dean's eyes as he says, “Did you know that I used to live in Lawrence as well?”

Castiel lifts his brows in surprise. “Seriously?”

“Actually, I was born there.”

What?

“ _Seriously_?”

Whatever Castiel's face is doing right now, Dean obviously deems it highly entertaining. “Yeah, dude. Both me and Sammy. My family moved when I was about four.”

Castiel honestly isn't sure whether he should call this coincidence or fate. “So you're telling me Dean Winchester's childhood home is somewhere around here?”

Dean smirks. “If nothing happened to it in the meantime, then yeah,” he agrees. “Don't ask me where it is, though. It's been a very long time ago.”

Understandable that a toddler wouldn't have any need to remember their address or any other important details. Dean might recognize the house from the outside and maybe particular areas of the town that used to be valuable to him at the time, but at such a young age the world simply doesn't consist of street names and coordinates. 

“Damn, what are the odds?” Dean asks with a chuckle as he shakes his head in disbelief. “I mean, it must be destiny or something. You ending up at the very place where everything started.”

Castiel laughs at that. “Right? Exactly where Dean Winchester's life story began, the very night his parents got fairly personal on the backseat of the Impala –”

It's an absolute delight to watch Dean's eyes growing comically wide at those words. “DUDE!” he exclaims. “ _What the hell_?”

Castiel shrugs his shoulders. “I mean, it's the truth, isn't it?”

“Wh– how – why – I mean, I don't –”

“One time I overheard your mother telling mine about it,” Castiel explains, matter-of-factly. “It was way more than I needed to know about my best friend, but I just couldn't unhear it after that.”

Dean grimaces so hard it's the most entertained Castiel felt in a very long while. “Fuck, man, why did you tell me this?” His groan seems to come deep out of his very soul. “My Baby … now I can't even _look_ at her anymore!”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “You're exaggerating.”

“ _Do I_?” Dean yells. “Because … my parents … _UGH_!”

“You told me your father purchased the car when he was a young man,” Castiel reminds him. “You can't be surprised your parents used to be sexually intimate in –”

“Oh my God, dude, _stop talking_!” Dean cuts him off. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“It's a completely natural process –”

“Man, those are _my parents_!” Dean interrupts him again. “As I'm concerned they had sex only twice in all their lives, to get me and Sammy, and that's about it.”

“Well …”

“That's the hill I will stubbornly die on!” Dean insists. “So let me live in my little, happy bubble, okay?”

Castiel smirks. “Before or after you bleach the Impala inside out?”

“ _DUDE_!”

Castiel laughs.

Damn, he missed this. Teasing. Playful mocking. Beside Dean he never had such a relationship with anyone. All the people interacting with him on a regular basis think him too uptight, too serious, to indulge in any kind of good-natured banter. And at some point he probably started to believe that as well.

But here is Dean. They've been on the phone for like twenty minutes and he already feels lighthearted again.

“Okay, fine, have it your way,” Dean grumbles. “You've successfully traumatized me. Happy now?”

Castiel grins. “Very.”

Dean shakes his head in frustration, but there is also so much affection showing on his features Castiel could never take him seriously.

“But I hope you like it in Lawrence?” he asks after a moment. “I mean, I was very young back then and I barely remember the place, but I vaguely recall I enjoyed my time there.”

“I grew quite fond of it, yes,” Castiel agrees, now a gentle note in his voice. “Like I said, we live fairly secluded at the edge of a forest and I fell in love with the house as soon as I first walked into it. The first two years I rented it, but when I knew this would be a very permanent arrangement I crunched some numbers and eventually decided to buy it.”

It was a major decision and he took a lot of time balancing the pros and cons, knowing fairly well how easy it was to fall into a financial trap and find yourself indebted for the rest of your life. 

But in the end it was the right move and so far Castiel has never regretted it.

“And your kids?” Dean wonders. “I mean, uprooting your life and everything. It's not easy.”

Naturally he speaks out of experience.

“Well, Jack was still fairly young and he adapted effortlessly,” Castiel explains. “Daphne and I divorced briefly after we adopted him as a baby.”

He falls silent again as he waits for the typical queries to come his way. As soon as people hear that both Claire and Jack are adopted they usually perk up instantly and start to ask an array of curious questions. Some of them are normal and Castiel has no problem answering them, other, however, are quite personal and invasive. Occasionally even downright insensitive. At least Castiel always thought it's his own business whether, for instance, his sperm works properly and he's never been keen to share such kind of information with anyone, especially not people he doesn't know all that well to begin with.

Thankfully most of the interest is on a rather regular level, though, so overall he doesn't mind it all that much.

Dean, however, merely blinks. There's a quick flicker of surprise showing up on his features, but it vanishes just as fast and his expression settles into something absolutely unfazed. 

Castiel has no idea if he's just not that astonished by the news, generally doesn't care or if his acting skills are getting even more impressive.

One way or another, that change in pace is actually quite refreshing, Castiel has to admit.

So he finds himself launching himself back into his story, deciding to follow Dean's example and not make a big deal out of it.

“After the divorce I was more than keen for a fresh start,” he explains. “I sent out applications all over the country, hoping for fate or whatever leading my way. And a lot reached back to me, but Lawrence eventually was the place I got stuck on.”

He can't even really describe it. He got some other amazing offers at that time, but something about Lawrence drew him in.

“Jack just turned two when we moved,” Castiel says. “As long as he was allowed to keep all his favorite toys he was happy.”

Dean chuckles. “An easygoing child, huh?”

“He always was,” Castiel agrees, pride and affection swelling in his chest. “People tell me he's a lot like me. He even looks like me, despite the fact that there's not even a hint of blood relation between us.”

He recalls so many surprised faces when he told them that Jack was adopted. Even nowadays a lot of people are utterly baffled by that information.

“He's highly intelligent and, as mentioned before, interested in about anything,” Castiel goes on. “Rocket science, penguins, the manufacturing process of nougat – it doesn't matter.”

Dean's features turn soft. “He surely sounds like a mini you.” 

The fondness in his voice is almost too much to bear and Castiel has no real clue what to do with it. And when Dean's expression morphs into something so completely gentle and his gaze gets more intense by a tenfold at least Castiel can't help feeling a little bit lost.

It's captivating.

And it feels way too powerful.

For a minute he fears he'd do or say something stupid, with his mind not working properly at the sight of Dean looking like he can't imagine anything more precious than a little version of Castiel existing on earth. And Castiel suddenly begins to understand how so many of his co-stars are able to claim to forget their texts or even the title of the entire respective projects as soon as they have to play a scene with Dean and find themselves distracted by his _everything_.

It's such a common occurrence the press even calls it the _“Winchester effect”._

And Castiel is just learning it the intense way.

He feels utterly unprepared for this and for a moment he just makes some semi-coherent noises and stares back into Dean's bright eyes like a complete fool incapable of bringing his brain back online.

Damn.

And in the end he's more than grateful when Dean is the one to pick up the topic of conversation again.

Because Castiel has a hard time remembering what they even talked about.

“What about Claire then?” Dean asks. “Did she handle the move to Lawrence alright?”

Right.

Lawrence. His job. His children.

_That's_ what they have been talking about.

“Um … yes,” he says. But then he blinks, forcing himself to recall the events from that time in great detail, and instantly adds, “Well, I mean no, not really.”

Dean seems amused by his inability to form a proper sentence and Castiel finds himself wondering if that bastard knows exactly what he's doing.

(He probably does.)

(And he's enjoying every single second of it.)

“I mean, the divorce … it wasn't exactly easy on Claire,” Castiel clarifies, more than eager to gather his thoughts and grant Dean no satisfaction for his unnatural hypnosis skills. “Losing her mother and everything. There even was a time she blamed Jack for all of it, considering it happened shortly after we adopted him and in her mind that new addition to the family was at fault for everything going wrong. For a while I was seriously worried she'd never accept her little brother.”

Castiel only reluctantly recalls that time. Making Claire see the error of her ways had been more important to him back then than anything else, including his falling out with Daphne.

“First she got a new brother, then her mother left, then _we_ left to an entirely new town …” Castiel sighs. “Looking back at it now I think I should have waited a little longer before turning her life so upside down within such a short amount of time, you know? But I guess my feelings got the better of me and turned off my logical brain along the way.”

Dean tilts his head. “You shouldn't feel bad for doing something for yourself,” he points out. “Claire wouldn't have benefited from a miserable dad, either.”

Castiel offers him a small smile.

Over the years a lot of people had told him that, but it always felt kind of hollow. Like they had judged him somehow anyway, even when they didn't say it out loud at the time. But Dean just sounds absolutely genuine and Castiel can't do anything else but believe his words. 

They're on the phone for like half an hour and Castiel feels already more connected with him than most people he encounters on an almost daily basis.

“And I guess Claire came around eventually, huh?” Dean asks, a smirk on his lips. 

Castiel chuckles in response. “Thankfully children don't hold grudges for long,” he says. “Claire found lots of new friends on her first day of preschool, she talked to her mother regularly on the phone and felt like a grown-up for dialing the number herself. And of course she grew quite fond and protective of Jack a lot faster than I could ever dream of.”

Dean smiles. “She sounds like a good kid, as well.”

“She reminds me of you, to be honest.”

Dean blinks in surprise at that. “Really?”

Castiel shrugs with his shoulders. “She seems tough on the outside, but inside she is a soft marshmallow,” he says, reveling in the sight of Dean pouting endearingly at the description. “The other day she fixed the sink right before taking care of Jack's scraped knee. She makes us fluffy pancakes with faces out of chocolate drops and yells at those boys always playing on our street for making fun of her brother.” Castiel smiles gently. “So yes, she reminds me a lot of you.”

Dean gapes at him, obviously not sure what to say to that, and Castiel wonders whether he has some kind of supernatural effect on the man in return, too.

The _“Novak effect”_ certainly has a nice ring to it.

Eventually, though, Dean manages to clear his throat and whisper a low, “Well, I can't wait to get to know them.”

And as soon as he says it Castiel's mind loudly agrees, _YES, I can't wait for that, too_.

If he's being honest there a lot of things he barely can't wait for.

And when he launches into the story of Claire trying a new pasta dish and almost setting the kitchen on fire by accident while Dean listens intently to every single word Castiel just knows that this is the beginning of something amazing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know, a lot of information, a lot of catching up, but I guess we have to build a basis before jumping to the really good stuff :D
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it!!
> 
> Until next chapter :)


	10. Impossible

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -
> 
> You know, your overwhelming enthusiasm for my story is just absolutely flooring me!!  
> When I started this project I was hoping that maybe 1-2 people would have fun with it - and now LOOK AT THIS!!
> 
> All your sweet comments and kudos and subscriptions - I'm crying, guys, seriously 😭
> 
> THANK YOU SO MUCH 💗
> 
> And I hope you're gonna enjoy the new chapter!
> 
> -

Dean stares motionless at the phone in his hand and loses any concept of time along the way.

It may have been merely seconds since Cas bid his goodbye and promised to contact him soon again. Or perhaps it's been minutes. _Many_ minutes. Hours even.

Dean has no clue. And frankly, he couldn't care less.

Because he still feels like a freight train had hit him up front.

It seems absolutely surreal that he actually _talked_ with Cas. And even _saw_ him. After more than two decades of complete radio silence.

How is such a thing even possible? Dean was under the impression such stuff only happened in movies. And he should know what he's talking about – he starred in more than enough to call himself an expert.

But now here he is.

He talked with Cas. Caught up with his life. Fucking chatted with him. Teased. Bantered. Joked.

As though no time had passed at all.

This seems just too good to be true.

And Cas had been both exactly the same and yet still somehow changed. The kind, gentle and sassy bastard Dean used to live next to is still more than alive, that's for sure. They reverted back to their old mannerisms in a matter of seconds, making them act like freaking teenagers again.

But at the same time Cas had grown. He's an adult with an adult life and adult problems and he just lives his life and tries to master it to the best of his abilities. Job, kids, ex-wife, high school students, bills, grocery shopping. He always used to be calm and settled, the most unusual teenager Dean's ever met, past and present, but now he seems even more grounded. As if nothing is able to knock him off his feet. Like a rock rooted deep in the ground.

So yes, he'd grown.

Also physically. Dean feels his cheeks heating again as he recalls the onslaught of different emotions when he saw Cas in all his glory for the first time after all these years. Cas had always been handsome and downright gorgeous, no question about that, but now his hair is even messier, his eyes somehow bluer than before (and Dean is absolutely shell-shocked such a thing has been possible), his body seems filled out in all the right places (as far as Dean was able to check) and he's gotten so damned hot it should be declared illegal.

Dean is still more than surprised that he was able to get any words out confronted with _that_ instead of finding himself tongue tied and babbling some incoherent nonsense.

Probably his greatest achievement of the century. He should definitely get an award for such a display of strength and self-control.

Dean smiles softly as he, once again, recalls Cas' smile, still so wide and gummy and infectious, and his voice, even deeper and gravelly than it used to be twenty years ago. And his laugh and the twinkle in his eyes and his dark sense of humor and basically _everything_ …

Dean's so deeply buried in his thoughts he doesn't even realize another person dropping down beside him on the couch. Only when a bottle of booze shows up in his line of sight right there in front of him on the coffee table and he registers someone clearing their throat very pointedly Dean finds himself blinking and shakes himself out of his reverie.

“Damn, you're totally lost inside your head, huh?” Charlie seems quite amused by his daydreaming and pats his shoulder in reassurance. “So I guess the letter was good news? Or at least not that bad? At least you don't look like you cried your eyes out.”

Dean gapes at her.

Letter?

He stays quiet for way too long, having no idea what she is even talking about.

Charlie, however, naturally interprets his silence as not-so-hot news. “Damn, _that_ bad?” She winces, obviously trying to appear sympathetic. “Sorry to hear that. I know you were hoping – I mean – uh – you still wanna get drunk?”

Dean blinks. “Drunk?”

In response Charlie raises the BluRay case in her hands. “ _Star Trek IV._ , bitch,” she announces. “The best of them all. Well, right after _Galaxy Quest_ , of course …”

While she dives right into a nerdy monologue, talking about Kirk and Spock and whales and Tim Allen without even taking a break to catch her breath, Dean's brain slowly manages to come back online.

Oh.

The letter.

 _Cas'_ letter.

Right.

Dean almost forgot this was how all of it started. It seems like a lifetime ago now.

So he blurts, “I talked to Cas,” like an idiot, right into Charlie's face. It successfully stops her geeky rambling as she pauses mid-sentence and stares at him with big eyes.

“You _talked_ with him?” she asks incredulously.

Dean nods, feeling both bashful and excited about the entire thing. “Yeah, the letter – which were good news, by the way –” But then he frowns at his own phrasing and corrects himself, “I mean, not really _good_ news. Cas had the audacity to remind me of a demon dog and make fun of me, the bastard …”

Charlie lifts a brow, clearly surprised by his tone.

Dean blushes slightly and adds hastily, “But, um, he wrote his phone number down. And I called him.”

For a moment Charlie stays frozen.

And then a bright grin spreads over her face and almost splits it in half.

“You _called_ him?”

Dean shrugs his shoulders as though it's been not that much of a deal. “Yeah, I did.”

“And I guess it went well?”

It takes all of Dean's strength not to giggle like a little schoolgirl. Because he's apparently pathetic that way.

“We called it quits not so long ago,” he explains. “He's got to get up early tomorrow, so …”

Yeah, not a big deal, right?

Just two friends talking and minding their schedules like the adults they pretend they are.

Typical friend stuff.

For a moment Charlie just beams at him, clearly on the verge of doing _something_ , whatever that might be. In the end, though, instead of flinging her arms around Dean's neck or whatever she pulls out her phone, dials a number and soon enough Benny's face shows up on the screen.

“They _talked_ ,” Charlie announces instead of going for a greeting first. “ _Really_ talked.”

Benny seems surprised, but rather by the information he just received and not Charlie's poor phone manners. “Seriously?” he wonders. “Damn, that went fast. I thought Dean would squirm around like a fish for at least another week or two before sending a cute little letter back or something.”

“Right?” Charlie nods in agreement. “Who would've thought he's got the balls?”

“Thank _God_ we don't have to deal with any moping –”

“Hey, hey, I'm right here!” Dean reminds them with a pout while pointedly gesticulating at himself. “How about a little respect, huh? You're working for _me_ , remember?”

Both Charlie and Benny throw him flat looks.

“You'd be lost without us,” Benny points us.

And okay, true, but also really rude.

“You're impossible,” Dean grumbles.

“And we're just happy you reconnected with your boo,” Charlie teases and actually has the audacity to pinch his cheek. “For your sake, but also for ours. Because you moping all over the place – that's never fun.”

Dean narrows his eyes and tries to give them both the most impressive glare he's able to muster. But at the end of the day he's still too happy, still too flashed about actually talking with Cas after all these years, that he barely can bring himself to look reproachful for even a second without a small smile already sneaking up on his features again.

“So tell us,” Charlie urges, poking his shoulder like an excited toddler keen for her nightly bedtime story. “What did you learn? What did you talk about? I wanna _know_ –”

Dean can't refuse her anything because a.) she'd annoy him to no end and he's seriously not in the mood for that, and b.) he's actually quite keen himself to share the things that unfolded since she left him all alone in his hotel room, just with Cas' letter in his hands.

And so he tells them.

About Cas' weirdly normal letter, how Dean just took the opportunity when he spotted the phone number, and how they reconnected and talked for what feels like both half an eternity and just ten minutes at the same time.

Naturally he also leaves some stuff out. Like things too personal, only meant for him and Cas. Or the fact that he was blushing 50% of the time.

But Charlie and Benny deserve the basics.

So when he ends his tale, for now, Charlie leans in with a suspiciously wide smile on her face and asks the question that's obviously been burning on her tongue for way too long. “So he's single then?”

Dean rolls his eyes and forces himself not to flush. “ _That's_ the only thing you took from this?”

He mentioned the divorce only once, even offhandedly, but Charlie was apparently determined to grip it tightly and not let that tidbit of information go easily.

“Well, it's _the most important thing_ I took from this,” Charlie points out with a scoff.

Of course.

Why is Dean even surprised by this?

So he sighs, accepting his fate, and confirms, “Yes, Cas is single.”

He even checked when the possibility of Cas having a significant other burned too much on his soul. After all, the guy's divorce happened over ten years ago, so more than enough time for another partner entering the picture in the meantime. But apparently raising two kids as a single dad and juggling an important job with yet another couple of hundreds or maybe even thousand kids on his hands doesn't leave much time for a romantic life. At least Cas seemed rather amused by Dean's question, as though a potential girlfriend (or perhaps even boyfriend?) by his side would be a ridiculous notion to begin with.

Dean felt all kinds of relieved hearing that.

Even though it actually shouldn't matter. Since his stupid teenage crush is ancient history and such.

It _is_.

Isn't it?

“He's single,” he repeats yet again, trying to sound cool about the whole thing. Like it's not a big deal. Which it isn't. “And that's the end of the discussion. We're gonna drop that right here and never pick it up.”

“But –”

“I know what you're implying, Charlie,” he cuts in. “But this is not some kind of fairy tale. In that interview I got caught up by nostalgia and okay, maybe it got a bit intense, but that happens, right? I mean, don't tell me you don't get a bit misty-eyed when you think about your old childhood friend.”

Charlie instantly gets a dreamy expression. “Little, adorable Gwen. She always pulled me over at the playground to make sand castles with her.”

“See?” Dean can't help gesturing a bit wildly. “It's more or less the same with Cas. Well, apart from the sand castles, of course …”

For a moment there is silence.

Charlie seems to seriously mull this over before eventually exchanging a glance with Benny.

Who, unfortunately, looks like he has no time for Dean's bullshit.

“Are this guy's eyes still _so blue they put every other shade to shame_?” Benny wonders, the asshat, a proud smirk on his lips. “You should watch out, Winchester, before you start to dream about them again. _Every night, for so long_ …”

The fucker obviously memorized the interview.

Dammit.

Of course it shouldn't be surprising considering he's on one hand his agent and should always know what's going on, and on the other hand, and more importantly, his friend who wouldn't miss an opportunity like this to tease his buddy until the end of time itself. But Dean still hoped they could just forget it forever and ever.

He's honestly got the worst friends.

“I've got the worst friends.”

Charlie, who had begun cackling enthusiastically at Benny's words, pats him on the head like he's a little puppy. “Oh honey, we know.”

“And we're proud of that status,” Benny emphasizes.

Dean grumbles and pouts so hard at them probably even his mom in New Jersey is seeing it right now.

“How about we talk about something else?” he presses through gritted teeth. “Anything else but Cas' eyes?”

Benny grins. “We can talk about his ass instead.”

“Or his abs,” Charlie jumps in helpfully.

“His thighs.”

“His hands.”

“His fingers specifically.”

“His nose. I bet it's cute.”

“His –”

“Just leave Cas' body parts alone, okay?” Dean interrupts as he tries to glare at both of his friends simultaneously. It's not the easiest, especially with the phone connection to Benny not being the best and him not having the honor of experiencing Dean's anger in all its uncut glory, but he gives it his best anyway.

“Okay, fine, we stop objectifying the poor guy we've actually never even met before anyway,” Benny promises and for a second there he looks completely genuine. Then, however, his smile widens, growing so big it's nearly terrifying. “How about we talk about the fact that his very being makes your world shine _so much_ brighter then?”

“Rainbows popping up in the sky,” Charlie adds, snickering.

“Angels singing in Heaven.”

“Random birds chirping love songs.”

“People dancing on the streets.”

“And don't forget beautiful rose petals covering your path wherever you go …”

Dean sighs loudly and rubs his forehead as they two continue to spur each other on and get more ridiculous by the second.

What the hell did he do in his life to deserve such awful friends?

\---

As soon as they ended their first phone call in over twenty years Castiel just wanted to shout it from the rooftops.

He wanted to let to know _everyone_ about the exciting news in his life.

But for one thing, it already had been rather late and Castiel probably would've faced lots of rage if he had suddenly woken up the entire neighborhood, and on the other hand it actually wouldn't have been the best idea anyway to spread the news about Dean _Winchester_ being back in his life again. At least not if he's keen on steering clear of paparazzi crowds in his front yard.

So yes, he kept his mouth shut.

The next morning at breakfast he at least considers telling his children because, after all, they're the most important people in his life and they deserve to know. But they spend the entire time arguing about boundaries (after Jack apparently walked into Claire's room without knocking yet again) and Castiel gets no word in edgewise.

Sure, he could have interrupted them easily and gained their whole attention in a matter of milliseconds, but as he starts to debate the issue in his head he finds himself feeling a bit reluctant about it. He is elated after the phone call, over the moon even, but the moment he would tell his kids the entire truth Castiel would have to share Dean with them.

And perhaps it's a little selfish, but at the moment he'd rather keep Dean to himself for at least a little while. A bit intimate privacy before eventually the big storm would open up above them.

Nonetheless, that doesn't mean he doesn't have the urge to talk about it with _someone_.

Preferably who already knows the backstory and is trustworthy enough to not alert the media about this turn of developments.

So when Castiel eventually enters the premises of the school he instantly rushes to the administration wing to Meg's desk.

“We need to talk,” he blurts into her face without any preamble whatsoever and flushes right away as she stares at him with a raised brow in response. “I mean … um, if you have the time …”

Something like mirth flashes up in her eyes. “Is this work related?” she asks. “Or personal? About _you know_ …?”

She seems way too amused by seeing Castiel brimming with energy like that, but it's not like he has many other options. And deep down she is a loyal and reliable friend and that's all he needs right now.

So soon enough they find themselves in Castiel's office again, everything closed that nobody accidentally could walk right into their conversation or even read their freaking lips through the glass. Castiel isn't sure if anyone in his staff actually possesses that ability, but he feels paranoid enough not to risk it.

“So I guess you got a response to your love letter?” Meg urges, a smile on her lips now.

Castiel rolls his eyes at her phrasing, but doesn't have the time to start yet another conversation on that very topic. “He called me!” he announces instead, knowing fairly well that he sounds like an excited kid. And he doesn't give a damn about it.

“Well, Winchester doesn't wait around, does he?” Meg says, laughing lowly. “Good for him.”

Castiel takes a deep breath. “I mean, I wrote my number into the letter, but if I'm being honest I didn't actually expect him to call me right away,” he confesses. “Or anytime soon. I assumed he might send me a text at some point maybe. That's about it.”

He was sitting in his favorite armchair, reading a book about two adventurers discovering the world, and actually didn't think much about it when his phone started to ring. As the principal of a lively high school there is always something afoot, so being called late at night about one issue or another happens from time to time. Perks of the job.

So when he picked up the phone he totally anticipated his secretary being the bearer of bad news – like, for instance, the chemistry department going up in flames or perhaps some idiot student having gotten stuck in the air vents again. Castiel certainly wouldn't have been surprised about something like that. His profession is a lot of things, yet it's never boring.

But then suddenly Dean's voice piped up – actually more like scolded him for putting his phone number out there into the world – and Castiel nearly fell of his chair.

He has still no real idea how he managed to compose himself and get so quickly into an easy routine with Dean. He's pretty sure he totally blacked out for the first few minutes of their conversation.

“I guess you two had a lot to catch up about, huh?” Meg asks, clearly amused by whatever expression is currently showing up on Castiel's face right now.

Castiel instantly tries to settle his features into something a bit more neutral because at the end of the day nothing is worse than giving Meg ammunition to mock him for the next couple of months, but he soon realizes it's absolutely impossible to keep his smile at bay while simultaneously thinking about Dean. Only the mere memory of Dean shooting that familiar boyish grin at him and calling him “nerd” with so much affection in his tone is more than enough to make Castiel's insides flutter.

So he gives up any attempts for the moment and instead dives right into his story, hoping that some rambling would get the muscles in his face somehow under control. He avoids any specific details, like Dean's place of residence and any further details about his family in general, but he finds more than enough material to prattle about for what feels like an eternity.

Meg merely leans back in her chair and chuckles underneath her breath the whole time, obviously finding Castiel's uncontrolled story telling rather endearing.

“Well, I'm definitely glad to see you so happy,” Meg eventually says after Castiel finally took a moment to catch some much needed breath. She still seems disturbingly smug, but actually sounds genuine about her words at the same time. “Winchester clearly has that kind of effect, hasn't he?”

Castiel would never argue about a fact so undeniable, but he keeps to a slight shrug for this one. He fears he might say something exceptionally dumb if he would start to talk about Dean's charm on top of everything else.

“And I'm happy that obviously the reason for you writing that letter in the first place didn't hinder Dean from responding to you,” she adds.

Castiel cocks his head. “You mean the interview?”

Meg scoffs. “Yes, _of course_ ,” she states. “I thought it might get really weird or something.”

Castiel can't help thinking back to that moment. How uncomfortable Dean had sounded all of a sudden. How he probably started to squirm and fidget, feeling embarrassed about the whole situation.

“Well, it came up, briefly,” Castiel confirms. “But we put it aside fairly quickly.”

Though it actually burned underneath Castiel's finger nails to actually talk about it and deepen that topic until its very core it also would've been highly uncomfortable for Dean and perhaps might have even ended up tainting their reunion. Having his feelings so out in the open and letting them hover above them like a menacing cloud the entire time wouldn't have sat well with Dean.

And Dean's comfort is far more important than sating any kind of curiosity.

Meg, meanwhile, makes a humming noise and suddenly begins to study him like the most fascinating science project.

“You know, I've been wondering …”

Castiel meets her intense gaze and feels dread gripping his heart at the spark in her eyes. “What?”

“I mean, the whole world knows that precious Dean Winchester had the most massive teen crush on you,” she says. “But I can't help thinking – what about you?”

Castiel blinks in confusion. “Me?”

“Yes,” Meg agrees. “How did you feel? Back then, I mean?”

Castiel stares at her.

And stares.

“Did you have a crush on him as well?” Meg prods him after he stays silent for too long. “Or was the whole thing entirely one-sided?”

Castiel frowns.

If he's being honest with himself … he actually hadn't even thought about that.

“I'm … I'm not sure,” he confesses. “How does a crush feel like?”

Meg groans, but somehow she manages to let it sound more fond than annoyed. “You're such an alien sometimes.”

Castiel can't help pulling a face at that. “It's a valid question.”

“It's just, like every second song _ever written_ talks about it,” Meg points out. “Even if you never felt it before you definitely heard heartfelt descriptions about it. Many times. The radio, books, movies, TV shows, rock bands, pop bands, solo artists with seemingly way too many emotions for one single person …”

Castiel sighs, already feeling something uncomfortable making his chest clench up. He should've just stayed quiet and kept the whole thing to himself.

“What do you want me to say?” he asks. “I don't … I cared for Dean a great deal back then. I still do,” he sees the need to clarify. “But I'm not sure …”

“I dunno, did you feel butterflies when he smiled at you?” Meg tries to help him out. “Did you look for excuses to be close to him? To touch him?”

Well.

Dean's smile has always been magnetic and dazzling, so of course Castiel couldn't help sensing something warm blossoming inside himself whenever it was directed at him. But everyone must have felt that way.

Right?

And naturally Castiel liked to be close to Dean. Considering his own parents never showed much affection towards him and something like a gentle pat on the shoulder or even a hug were very rare occasions Castiel was automatically drawn to someone as bright and “touchy-feely” as Dean. Dean always liked to initiate some contact between them – legs pressed together, a hand resting on an arm, tangled limbs underneath a blanket – and in hindsight that actually might have originated in his feelings for Castiel, but Castiel certainly never questioned it but reveled in this new form of affection. Back then he had no idea that people actually could be that close to each other and he absorbed that unfamiliar experience up like a sponge.

And sure, he always felt warm and happy with Dean right next to him, smiling at him and saying “Cas” in that very special way of his, but that doesn't necessarily mean he had romantic feelings for the other boy.

Right?

 _Right_?

Just in that very moment his phone suddenly pings and Castiel sees himself confronted with a new text message.

 **Dean [8:26 AM]:** _hey Cas! I hope you're having a good morning and I didn't keep you up too long last night. have a great day at school, you nerd._

Castiel smiles dumbly at the message. He just can't help himself.

Meg, meanwhile, shakes her head in clear exasperation and mumbles something underneath her breath that sounds suspiciously like “idiot”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -  
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter!
> 
> Next time we've got lots of Destiel interaction to look forward too again :)
> 
> Until then, have a nice week!


	11. Old Habits Die Hard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my dearest friends!
> 
> Welcome to the new chapter :D
> 
> This one is kinda special since it's solely consists of a compilation of texts/phone calls/e-mails between Dean and Cas over a couple of months. When I was developing this story I came to wonder how I should best portray their growing relationship in a fun way and one day I came up with this idea :D
> 
> I hope you're gonna enjoy it!
> 
> -

Over the course of the next two months their communication increases drastically and they find themselves talking with each other, in whatever way, about small matters and important milestones, on a daily basis.

\-----

** Dean [10:41 AM]:  ** _ I looked totally stupid last night didn't I? _

** Castiel [10:52 AM]:  ** _ You mean your attendance at that Late Night Show? _

** Dean [10:53 AM]:  ** _ YES!! what else do you think I'm talking about dude?? _

** Castiel [10:53 AM]:  ** _ I don't know. I assume there might be a lot of opportunities for you to look stupid. _

** Dean [10:55 AM]:  ** _ thanks a lot honey _

** Castiel [10:57 AM]:  ** _ You're very welcome, dear. _

** Castiel [10:57 AM]:  ** _ And yes, you looked stupid. _

** Dean [10:58 AM]:  ** _ THANKS A LOT HONEY _

** Castiel [10:58 AM]:  ** _ You asked.  _

** Dean [10:58 AM]:  ** _ you're not supposed to answer honestly dude _

** Castiel [11:01 AM]:  ** _ Oh right. That's one of these instances where I have to lie, right? _

** Dean [11:01 AM]:  ** _ YES _

** Castiel [11:02 AM]:  ** _ I apologize.  _

** Castiel [11:02 AM]:  ** _ No, you didn't look stupid last night, Dean. The person putting that neon green shirt on you is nothing short of a genius and DOES NOT need to have their eyes checked. Not to mention that wonderful fedora hat that made you look so cool and sophisticated and NOT like a low-ranking mobster employee who's barely able to walk straight. _

** Dean [11:05 AM]:  ** _ you're the worst and I hate you _

** Castiel [11:05 AM]:  ** _ Then my job here is done. _

\-----

“God, I HATE children!”

“Dammit, Cas, tell me how you really feel.”

“I'm _telling_ you –”

“Yeah, yeah, forget it. What did the kids do that you have to use such strong and vile language? And are we talking about _your_ kids, as the ones who live in your house and eat your food, or the kids at your school?”

“The latter.”

“Ah …”

“My own children are very well-behaved at the moment. Which, thinking about it now, might actually not be such a good sign …”

“Yeah, sounds like a storm is coming.”

“ _Damn_.”

“So, what did your other kids do to make you lose your cool like that?”

“They set off the fire alarm again. For the third time this month.”

“Dude, today is the 12th.”

“ _Exactly_! You see my point?”

“Yeah. Sounds like fun.”

“I can tell you, the fire department is not amused by this.”

“Figures.”

“And don't get me wrong, I don't mind watching those firefighters in their uniform.”

“Naturally.”

“But it's getting embarrassing. They have to come every single time, with their huge car and well-fitted outfits, for nothing.”

“It's probably only one student who likes to stir up shit. Maybe 'cause he's bored or he thinks himself cool by doing this.”

“You sound like you speak from experience.”

“As you remember, I was a _very_ stupid teenager back then. I had my fair share of fire alarms myself. And lots of worse stuff, too.”

“Then I should count myself lucky that I wasn't your principal at the time. You would've been the bane of my existence.”

“You can bet your sweet ass on it.”

“Whoever is setting off all these fire alarms is probably just as much a smug and cocky bastard as you are.”

“Just your type then, huh?”

“I'm gonna put the fear of God into him, so that he will regret his actions until his dying day, just mark my words.”

“You're getting _way_ too intense here, dude.”

“Yes, you're right. I apologize.”

“Good.”

“He will only regret his actions until his graduation. Afterward he can do whatever he pleases.”

“Damn, I'm _so fucking glad_ you weren't my principal back in the days.”

“You should be. You wouldn't have survived high school under my reign.”

\-----

**To:** _Castiel Novak <cnovak@onlinespot.com>_

**From:** _Dean Smith <d.impala67@maildumpster.com>_

**Subject:** _My house_

_ [images attached] _

Hey, Cas!

As promised a few “before” and “after” pics of my house.

As you can see it was a total dump when I got it. Till this day I'm not sure what possessed me to spend any money on this piece of crap. Maybe I was drunk or something. Or I ate some bad mushrooms. I heard they can have a bad influence on peoples' state of mind.

But yeah, I guess I did alright in the end, didn't I? The kitchen took the longest and it did cost me a lot of tears and frustration, but I'm so damned happy about the end product I barely even remember that. I love the rustic charm and the size is more than enough to prep my meals with all the elbowroom in the world :)

So yeah, just thought you'd like to see for yourself instead of just hearing some stories. Sorry it's been so many pictures though in the end, I just couldn't decide which one to send and ended up putting everything in there. If your computer crashed because of it I'll gladly get you a new one.

Bye, Dean

(P.S.: Don't be confused by the “Smith” in the address line. That was during a phase where I used to be extra careful with using my real identity and Smith was about the most common last name I could think of. I always thought of changing it back, but I guess it kinda grew on me over time. Sam even got himself an e-mail account calling himself “Wesson” to go along with that, so that fits kinda perfectly :))

\-----

“Hey, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“I just …”

“Yes?”

“I kinda have a personal question, sort of. You don't have to answer or anything.”

“Yes?”

“What made you decide to adopt? I mean, you and Daphne, were you not … um …?”

“If we were not able to conceive? Is it that what you're asking?”

“Damn, sorry, it's too personal, isn't it? Sorry I asked, forget it –”

“Dean, I'd like to think you're one of my best friends. I'm not sure there is much that qualifies as 'too personal', don't you think?”

“… You're one of my best friends, too, Cas.”

“Thank you, Dean.”

“… You're welcome?”

“And to answer your question: I guess we could have conceived the 'traditional way', so to speak. Daphne had some health issues, but nothing major. The doctors gave her the green light.”

“But …?”

“From a young age I was under the impression that adoption should be normalized, you know? Not as a last resort if nothing else wouldn't work. All these children deserve a second chance. A loving home. So I guess my mind was set on that even before I met Daphne.”

“… Yeah, I vaguely remember you talking about adoption and all that stuff.”

“Even sixteen-year-old me had strong opinions about that. Daphne wasn't thrilled at first, especially considering the way she was raised and all those values and beliefs. However, I can be very persistent, if I need to be. I mean, we still talked about it a lot because naturally I didn't want her to be miserable with such an important decision. I'm sure, at the end of day, if she really would have wanted children of her own flesh and blood, I would have relented eventually. But apparently my reasoning for adoption got through to her and she grew fond of the idea rather quickly.”

“I guess the not having to be pregnant bit was a huge appeal, huh?”

“Oh yes.”

“So in the end it wasn't because of any circumstances, you both just _wanted_ to adopt?”

“That's right.”

“You know what?”

“What?”

“You're awesome, Cas.”

\-----

**Castiel [3:24 PM]:** _I think I just have been asked out on a date._

**Dean [3:26 PM]:** _you THINK?_

**Castiel [3:27 PM]:** _I'm not sure._

**Dean [3:27 PM]:** _how can you not know?_

**Castiel [3:28 PM]:** _Well, the word 'date' wasn't mentioned at all, but according to my secretary the 'flirting game' was very strong._

**Dean [3:28 PM]:** _so what happened?_

**Castiel [3:30 PM]:** _There is this woman, Chelsea. She is a parent and also the main organizer for a lot of our school activities. Without her a lot of events would have been an absolute disaster. And just now she invited me to dinner at a restaurant to discuss the details for the upcoming school dance._

**Dean [3:31 PM]:** _dinner? at a restaurant?_

**Castiel [3:31 PM]:** _Yes._

**Dean [3:32 PM]:** _and I assume that's not the usual protocol?_

**Castiel [3:32 PM]:** _Not really, no. At least it never happened before._

**Dean [3:33 PM]:** _well dude … sounds like a date to me._

**Castiel [3:33 PM]:** _I was afraid of that._

**Dean [3:37 PM]:** _you don't like her?_

**Castiel [3:39 PM]:** _She is perfectly nice. Actually quite lovely compared to lots of other parents. And she went through a divorce last year and is now a single mother, so she certainly knows how that feels like._

**Dean [3:40 PM]:** _so why don't you go for it then?_

**Castiel [3:40 PM]:** _Because she's perfectly nice – and that's it._

**Dean [3:40 PM]:** _no spark?_

**Castiel [3:41 PM]:** _Not even a flicker._

**Dean [3:44 PM]:** _well then you've two options left: either you cancel the whole thing or you just go to that restaurant, eat some free meal and talk about the school dance with a perfectly nice person._

**Castiel [3:45 PM]:** _Putting it like that it doesn't sound so bad._

**Dean [3:45 PM]:** _just get the most expensive item on the menu. she'll realize you're way too high maintenance_

**Castiel [3:48 PM]:** _You're a source of incomparable wisdom._

**Dean [3:48 PM]:** _I aim to please._

**Dean [3:49 PM]:** _don't worry, with my help she'll dump your sorry ass in no time._

\-----

“Did I actually ever ask you how you came into acting?”

“Dude, you _seriously_ never looked into my bio even once, did you?”

“Like I said, it always felt a little weird.”

“You're one of a kind, Cas, you know that? Out there are millions of people looking up their old classmate on _Facebook_ or whatever and here you are, with all that information easily accessible, and you didn't even take a single peak.”

“Perhaps I just wasn't interested. Ever thought of that?”

“Oh _please_!”

“Will you answer my question then or not? Or if you really prefer I just could look it up. And along the way I will probably find some very embarrassing pictures and laugh at your expenses for the next three hundred years –”

“Okay, fine, I'll tell you. _Jeez_.”

“I'm most humbled you want to share such an important chapter of your life with me. Even on my deathbed I will tell my grandchildren about this.”

“... You _do_ realize I'm rolling my eyes so hard right now, don't you?”

“Of course. Your eye rolling skills are even visual through a phone connection. Because you're _that_ good.”

“Damn, I wonder why I'm even talking to you –”

“Will you tell me the freaking story or not? I'm not getting any younger here.”

“Okay, _fine_ – well, there was a girl …”

“Why am I even surprised about this?”

“Sorry if you expected some meaningful and heartfelt story. It honestly just started with me being a horny teenager and that's the truth.”

“Right.”

“Does the fact that I actually really liked that girl and it wasn't just my raging hormones driving me make the story at least a little better from your snobbish point of view?”

“Perhaps.”

“Well, her name was Robin. I was sixteen and just new at the school, like so many times before. She was cute and funny and maybe I got myself a little crush there. I guess.”

“How very sweet.”

“A goddamned fairy tale, isn't it? Especially when I followed her to the drama club like a lovesick puppy.”

“This truly has the makings of a remarkable story.”

“I'm just telling you how it is. They needed some additional roles for their play and Robin got me wrapped around her fingers with her big Bambi eyes. I had no chance, so I agreed.”

“And you enjoyed it.”

“I didn't expect that to happen, of course. I thought I would get through it somehow and in the end get the girl. But it turned out to be lots of fun. The people were great and I really fell in love with the whole atmosphere. I was an official member of the drama club before the play even started. And in my next school it was the first thing I looked up.”

“And Robin?”

“Well, that worked out great, too. My first girlfriend and everything, if you can believe that. We stayed together until my family moved away again.”

“I'm sorry about that.”

“No, it's okay. I mean, we got along great and I guess you would describe it as that kind of cute puppy love you see everywhere in high school, but it wasn't like this great and tragic love story or something. We said our goodbyes and we were okay with that. She's a veterinarian now and got herself a nice husband and three kids.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Yeah, it is. We actually stayed in more or less loose contact after that. She's the one that introduced me to Sonny later on.”

“The one who manages the home for boys?”

“That's the one.”

“All things come together, huh?”

“What can I say? That girl has been introducing me to many awesome things. Maybe I should leave her in control of my life from now on.”

“She already has three children, I bet she is not in need of another one.”

“ _Ouch_ , man.”

“I'm just saying it how it is.”

“Well, whatever … she got me into theater and acting and I really loved it, so I stayed on it. Even when I graduated school and worked as a mechanic with my dad while I was trying to figure out what to do with my life, I still played in some local productions and eventually got some roles as extras in TV. Nothing big, but I liked it. And it was some nice extra cash.”

“And then it only got bigger and bigger from there, I assume.”

“Well, I got an actual role – with a few lines and a whole backstory and everything – in an independent movie and I really loved it. I guess that was the first time when I actually considered having this as a career rather than a hobby. And when Benny approached me some time later and encouraged me to take the step, I was sold.”

“I guess that wasn't an easy decision nonetheless.”

“I mean, yeah, the business is brutal, of course. And I never expected to become a big movie star or something. But I loved it and I always told myself that, if worse came to worse, I could still go to college or keep on being a mechanic or whatever else. But I was young and I always thought, “If not now, then when?” You know?”

“Well, looks like in the end you made the right decision.”

“Thank _God_. Benny would have cried if I would've had to stop acting at some point.”

\----

**Castiel [4:09 PM]:** _By the way, we found the fire alarm culprit. One of my teachers caught him right in the act._

**Castiel [4:09 PM]:** _I instantly put the fear of God into him._

**Castiel [4:10 PM]:** _I think he peed his pants a little._

**Castiel [4:10 PM]:** _It was glorious._

\-----

“I heard congratulations are in order.”

“For what?”

“Rumor has it you're a strong candidate for the Oscar.”

“Oh God, not you too.”

“For someone who hates so much attention you're _clearly_ chose the wrong career.”

“Do you think I don't know that?”

“But seriously, _The Road So Far_ is quite a marvelous movie and I can understand why the judges have their eyes on it.”

“If you say so ...”

“I especially enjoyed the scene where you stumbled over your own two feet like an idiot and almost got impaled by a cactus. Truly worthy Oscar material.”

“Did I ever mention that I hate you?”

“Or the scene where you got that stomach virus and hugged the toilet for like five years? Quite believable, I have to say, you looked absolutely terrible.”

“Thanks, babe.”

“Or when you walked straight into that glass door –”

“ _Yeah_ , I get it!”

“But seriously, here we are, talking about the chance you might get a honest-to-God _Oscar_!”

“It's just a rumor, Cas.”

“Nonetheless, the fact that it's even a possibility – it seems so surreal. How did we end up here?”

“Beats me. Probably a cosmic joke or something.”

“Yeah. Or maybe it's because you're crazy talented. And not awful looking.”

“No, I'm pretty sure it's the universe having a laugh at my expenses.”

“Well, then it's a good thing lots of people, myself included, enjoy the universe's humor.”

\-----

**To:** _Dean Smith <d.impala67@maildumpster.com>_

**From:** _Castiel Novak <cnovak@onlinespot.com>_

**Subject:** _Pictures_

_ [images attached] _

Hello, Dean.

As promised some of the old pictures of our former neighborhood.

I digitized most of them a few months ago (with Jack's help, otherwise I would have been lost) and I really hope the quality is good enough. Some of them unfortunately weren't in such good shape anymore.

Over the years nothing changed all that much, to be honest. As I mentioned, my parents still live there and apart from new flowerbeds in some front yards and the fact that they finally managed to fix that pothole at the crossroad it's more or less the same. Even your former tree house still exists. Granted, nowadays it's the playground for the new and very vocal neighbor's children, according to my parents, but it's still standing. Strong as ever.

I hope you have fun with the pictures.

Cas

\-----

**Dean [9:56 AM]:** _damn that stupid tree house brings back lots of memories._

**Dean [9:56 AM]:** _and the oak tree. feels like I'm 14 again._

**Dean [9:57 AM]:** _…_

**Dean [9:59 AM]:** _thanks for the pics, man_

\-----

“I think Claire has a girlfriend.”

“Oooh?”

“There is nothing official yet or anything. But Kaia has been to our house a few times and usually Claire hates to bring people over. Because she feels awkward with me being the principal and all, I guess.”

“Relatable.”

“But Kaia has been over multiple times already. And not just for required school projects or whatever but for simple socializing. To 'hang out', as the young kids use to say.”

“You're such an old grump sometimes, man.”

“And you don't spend enough time around children and teenagers to have earned any right to mock me on that front.”

“Touché.”

“Anyway, Claire seriously seems to like Kaia. In _that_ way. At least I haven't seen her blush around another person as much as she does now.”

“And Kaia?”

“She looks like she isn't sure if Claire might have feelings for her or not. And she is too shy or afraid to say something.”

“Yeah. It's not always easy to open up like that. Especially if it's something serious and not just a meaningless fling.”

“Is that why you never told me about your feelings back then?”

“Uuuhh …”

“I guess it makes sense. It's an huge step. You don't want to risk the friendship you so cherish.”

“… um, yeah …”

“I want to say something and nudge them in the right direction. But I fear Claire might not be pleased by that.”

“… yeah, parental interference is not always welcome.”

“So I should just stay quiet?”

“Just let them be. Make sure Claire knows you're on her side and she can come to you if she needs to, but otherwise keep your mouth shut. That's all you can do for her.”

“Sometimes you're very wise, Winchester.”

“Don't tell people. I've got a reputation to uphold.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

\-----

**Dean [11:01 AM]:** _and you don't think Claire is a bit reluctant because of the whole girl thing?_

**Castiel [11:01 AM]:** _You mean because she is interested in the same sex?_

**Dean [11:02 AM]:** _yeah_

**Castiel [11:04 AM]:** _I don't think so. I made sure our school is very accepting on that front. Of course I know that children still can be cruel about it, but I'd like to think I created a safe atmosphere in that place._

**Castiel [11:05 AM]:** _And at home Claire knows she doesn't have to hide. After all, I don't really have any preferences myself, I think._

**Dean [11:05 AM]:** _you think?_

**Castiel [11:06 AM]:** _It's not something I kept agonizing over every single day. I got married quite young and after my divorce I was way too busy with two little children to give it much thought._

**Castiel [11:06 AM]:** _But yes, recently I realized I don't really care. I can easily imagine my future with a woman or a man. Or a delicious slice of cake._

**Dean [11:07 AM]:** _yeah, I guess I'm more or less the same in that regard. tho I still love me some pie_

**Castiel [11:09 AM]:** _Of course. Not even the most beautiful person on the planet could distract you from a piece of pie, right?_

**Dean [11:10 AM]:** _well_

**Dean [11:10 AM]:** _there might be a few exceptions, of course_

**Dean [11:10 AM]:** _but generally you're totally right, yeah_

**Castiel [11:13 AM]:** _I never actually said it before, but I'm really proud you decided to come out publicly. Don't get me wrong, naturally it's still your business and if you would have decided to stay quiet about it until your dying day that would have been totally your right and nobody could have called you out for it._

**Castiel [11:14 AM]:** _But people learning that even a person like you, someone they admire so much, can be bi, it meant a lot. For people who never even stopped to consider. And specifically for people who are in the same situation as you are. Claire at least actually felt empowered by your move, I think. It's not like she held her orientation hidden or something, but she never really spoke about it so openly either._

**Castiel [11:15 AM]:** _But only a few days after you came out she offhandedly told me about the crush she used to have on an actress. She never exactly acknowledged it before and suddenly she was talking about it openly._

**Dean [11:16 AM]:** _damn_

**Dean [11:16 AM]:** _I'm really happy to hear that._

**Dean [11:16 AM]:** _I heard a lot of such stories after I came out. I'm glad I was able to inspire some people._

**Castiel [11:16 AM]:** _What made you decide to do in the first place?_

**Dean [11:17 AM]:** _I dunno. I guess I was just tired. tired of reporters asking me nagging questions about any potential girlfriends. tired of all the assumptions. and at some point I stopped giving a shit. I didn't even have much of an agenda or anything. I mean of course I'm happy I had a positive influences on peoples' lives but overall I just was done with people treating my like a freaking womanizer._

**Dean [11:17 AM]:** _well okay, now they assume I have girls AND guys on all of my fingers but at least it's equally distributed now_

**Castiel [11:18 AM]:** _Well, we have to play fair, right?_

**Castiel [11:18 AM]:** _Though how the press still hasn't caught up on the fact that pie is your one true love is an absolute mystery to me._

**Dean [11:22 AM]:** _right?_

**Dean [11:22 AM]:** _they're all hopeless_

\-----

“… and that's how I accidentally ran straight into Oprah and nearly made her fall down the stairs.”

“You sound horrible, Dean.”

“ _That's_ the only thing you have to say after that epic tale???” 

“Are you getting sick? A cold? The flu?”

“It's just from talking too much. All the interviews and such. I'm okay, man.”

“And then on top of that you're talking _to me_ every single night as well. We should switch exclusively to text messages and e-mail for the time being.”

“You're exaggerating, Cas. I'm fine.”

“When Winchesters say they are fine, they are usually _not_ fine.”

“Cas …”

“Just stop talking. Get something for your throat and go to bed early.”

“But –”

“No. Talking.”

“Okay, _fine_ –”

\-----

**Dean [10:34 PM]:** _happy now?_

**Castiel [10:34 PM]:** _Thrilled._

**Dean [10:35 PM]:** _you're an overprotective mother hen, you know that?_

**Castiel [10:36 PM]:** _I remember you being way worse that one week I had that stomach virus. You pampered me more than my own mother._

**Dean [10:37 PM]:** _what can I say? you looked so pathetic._

**Castiel [10:38 PM]:** _And when I twisted my ankle? You insisted on carrying me around._

**Dean [10:38 PM]:** _well, you didn't pick me up on that._

**Castiel [10:39 PM]:** _It would have been a disaster. Can you even imagine?_

**Dean [10:39 PM]:** _it would've been fine. even then I was stronger than I looked._

**Castiel [10:40 PM]:** _Oh I know. But it was still a complete overreaction to a slightly throbbing ankle._

**Dean [10:40 PM]:** _I NEVER overreact._

**Castiel [10:40 PM]:** _Just go to bed, Dean. You need rest._

**Dean [10:41 PM]:** _fine mom_

**Castiel [10:41 PM]:** _Goodnight, Dean. Sweet dreams._

**Dean [10:41 PM]:** _youre so weird, man_

**Dean [10:42 PM]:** _but yeah, goodnight_

**Dean [10:42 PM]:** _mother hen_

\-----

**Castiel [9:13 PM]:** _I reached another milestone in the adventure called fatherhood today._

**Castiel [9:13 PM]:** _FINALLY :)_

**Dean [9:26 PM]:** _Oh dear God, what happened?_

**Castiel [9:29 PM]:** _Jack brought a stray back home today. And has been begging me for most of the day to keep it._

**Dean [9:30 PM]:** _yeah that totally sounds like a milestone. congrats, man_

**Castiel [9:31 PM]:** _It's a cat. Jack named her Toto._

**Castiel [9:31 PM]:** _He's currently in a Wizard of Oz phase._

**Castiel [9:31 PM]:** _Jack, not the cat._

**Dean [9:33 PM]:** _I had no idea that's a very common phase for teenagers-to-be._

**Dean [9:33 PM]:** _and? youre gonna keep the cat?_

**Castiel [9:34 PM]:** _For a few hours I was seriously contemplating it. Toto is a very well-behaved and beautiful cat._

**Castiel [9:34 PM]:** _But it turned out Toto actually belongs to Mr. Finnigan down the street. So the “stray” part of the whole thing might be a bit exaggerated, I'm afraid._

**Dean [9:37 PM]:** _ah well_

**Dean [9:37 PM]:** _at least you got another item checked off your list of parental joys_

**Castiel [9:39 PM]:** _The cat's actual name is Lord Tinkles, by the way._

**Castiel [9:39 PM]:** _It seems my son has far better name giving skills than our neighbor._

**Dean [9:46 PM]:** _I don't know, Cas. I mean your neighbor declared that cat a lord. your son, however, gave the poor cat the name of a DOG_

**Castiel [9:47 PM]:** _I guess you're right._

**Dean [9:47 PM]:** _I'm always right_

**Dean [9:47 PM]:** _and for what it's worth, I'm glad you didn't keep the cat. I'm allergic._

**Castiel [9:48 PM]:** _If you were ever to move in with us, I will keep that in mind._

**Dean [9:53 PM]:** _thanks a lot_

-

“Damn, I love my job, I _seriously_ do, but I'm _really_ happy the promo tour is coming to an end.”

“I can imagine it being very exhausting over time.”

“Traveling, giving interviews, answering the very same questions over and over again, being away from home for weeks. Yeah, it's clearly not the most fun part of the job.”

“Then I'm happy for you it will be over soon.”

“Just about a week of that and then I'm off to Albany to Sam's place to celebrate his birthday. Can't wait to see that mutt's face again.”

“Are you talking about your brother or his dog?”

“ _Two_ dogs, actually. Sam got another one a while back.”

“I see.”

“So yeah, I'm looking forward to see all of their mutt faces, Sam included.”

“I'm sure he will be thrilled to hear that.”

“Oh shut it. I got him a rare first edition of his favorite author, so he'll better be quiet and worship the ground I'm walking on.”

“Oh yes, I can totally see that happening.”

“Mom will make sure Sam's gonna appreciate me and my very existence.”

“She's going to be there, too?”

“Yeah. The whole family, plus the dogs, under one roof. Nothing can go wrong with that.”

“I'll make sure to remember those words for your funeral.”

“You're _the worst_ , man.”

“I know.”

\-----

**Dean [7:45 PM]:** _[image sent]_

**Dean [7:45 PM]:** _Just met the guy by accident :)_

**Castiel [7:59 PM]:** _Am I supposed to know who that is?_

**Dean [8:13 PM]:** _dude you seriously have no idea who Chris Hemsworth is?_

**Castiel [8:16 PM]:** _I mean, you're obviously friends considering that very happy selfie, but apart from that, no clue._

**Dean [8:16 PM]:** _cas man. you're killing me_

**Castiel [8:18 PM]:** _I'm sorry?_

**Dean [8:19 PM]:** _I'm gonna dedicate my next few weeks/months educating you in the finer things of life_

**Castiel [8:19 PM]:** _And that Christ Hemsworth is one of those finer things?_

**Dean[8:20 PM]:** _you can bet your sweet ass on that_

\-----

“I just saw a picture of you in the newspaper.”

“Well, what can I say, Cas? That happens from time to time, I'm afraid.”

“It was a snapshot of you. You were just sitting within an ocean of people and only had eyes for the phone in your hands. And suddenly I couldn't help wondering if you were talking with _me_ in that moment.”

“Entirely possible, man. You're taking up a lot of my time lately. Not that I'm complaining.”

“This just feels … _weird_.”

“Good weird, I hope?”

“Just … weird.”

“Huh.”

“I mean, one moment I see you on the news and people are talking about you like you're the next Messiah or something and about a minute later you send me a photo of your mismatched socks. It feels like two different worlds.”

“Yeah, buddy, this life can be very strange sometimes. But at the end of the day I'm still me.”

“I know. I wouldn't want it any other way.”

“Aw babe, you're making me blush.”

“Don't hide behind stupid jokes and take the fucking compliment, Winchester.”

“Damn, you cursing like a drunken sailor makes me all tingly.”

“ _Dean_ –”

“Yeah, okay, fine, I'm taking the compliment.”

“Good.”

“And for what it's worth, I'm happy that at the end of the day you're still _you_ as well.”

“Now _I'm_ blushing.”

“Mission accomplished then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it :D
> 
> On one hand it's been really easy and fun to write this, but at the same time it's also super hard to deliver emotions just via dialogue. I really hope I did it adequately enough that you picked up something here and there about their inner feelings and the unspoken text between the lines 😅
> 
> Until next week then!


	12. Profound Bond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we go again, my friends!
> 
> I hope you had a good week since the last time we saw each other :) Mine has been a little more hectic, with me being back to work again and everything, but that surely won't keep me away from this story! I'm super excited for what is about to come in the next few chapters and I'm sure you will be as well ;)
> 
> For now, though, have some very special family time!
> 
> I hope you have fun ^^
> 
> -

“Is that _Deeeean_ again?”

At the sound of Claire's amused voice Castiel looks up from the phone in his hands and sees himself confronted with both of his children grinning shamelessly at him from across the couch. Castiel arches his eyebrows, feeling a bit surprised by their presence considering he seriously didn't notice them entering the living room. He just had crawled onto his armchair a while ago, all alone, no soul in the near vicinity, and soon had gotten lost in his latest text conversation with Dean.

Obviously even so lost that his kids were able to make themselves comfortable right in front of him without him registering a thing.

“Um, what?” Castiel blinks, not sure what's even happening.

Claire gestures at his phone. “Is that _Dean_?” When Castiel doesn't answer immediately and simply stares at her, she adds with a sigh, “You know, the guy you got back into contact with. Your old childhood friend. The one you have been chatting daily with for _months_ now. You know, _Dean_.”

“Why are you saying his name like that?” Castiel asks, narrowing his eyes in suspicion at the two bright smiles directed at him. It doesn't bode any good.

“No reason,” Claire responds way too innocently. “We just noticed you're talking with the guy a lot.”

Castiel glances at his phone's screen, at a new incoming message from Dean, and has no real idea what to make of this situation. How is he supposed to feel right now?

“Um, yes,” he agrees in the end. “And?”

Jack shrugs his shoulders. “It's just interesting.”

“Interesting how exactly?”

“It's interesting because our Dad who used to look at his phone maybe like once a week is suddenly seen with it all the time,” Claire explains with a chuckle. “ _Really_ interesting.”

Castiel takes a deep breath. “What are you implying?”

Claire and Jack exchange a quick glance with each other and Castiel is quite sure he doesn't like the silent talk they have with their eyes and mimics alone.

“We're implying nothing,” Claire states. “It's just –”

“If you wanna say 'interesting', save it,” Castiel cuts in, sighing. “Whatever is going on with you two, either spit it out or do it somewhere else. You both know I'm not very skilled reading these kinds of, uh, situations.”

He isn't even certain this is a situation to begin with. But it doesn't hurt to make himself clear nonetheless.

“Okay, fine.” Claire straightens her back, as though preparing for battle. “Jack and I were just wondering if you've got a crush on the guy.”

Castiel frowns. “A crush?”

“A romantic crush,” Jack adds helpfully.

Castiel blinks at both of them. Slowly.

“So you think I have a crush on Dean?” he inquires, just to be safe. “Because I enjoy talking to him?”

“Yes,” Jack confirms with a smile while Claire simultaneously adds, “Well, it's more than that.”

Castiel blinks yet again.

“More?”

Claire scoffs like the mere question is absolutely ridiculous. “Yeah, I mean …” She looks at him with her big eyes, as though he should just _know_ what she's saying right now, as though she expects him to have the same weird psychic connection with her train of thoughts just as Jack.

Castiel, however, merely stares back at her and wonders whether she actually has any intention to finish that sentence or leave it hanging in the room, above all their heads.

“Dad.” Claire sounds long-suffering, as if she can't believe she has to deal with such idiocy. “I mean, I know you can't actually see your own face when you're talking to the guy … but don't you notice a difference?”

Castiel feels very lost all of a sudden. “A difference?”

“You're _always_ smiling,” Claire points out while Jack next to her nods in agreement. “You know, those little private smiles. The ones you only reserve for very special occasions. That Dean guy gets tons of them and he doesn't even know it.”

“Not to mention you look happier,” Jack chimes in. “Lighter somehow.”

Castiel tilts his head. “And all that means I have a crush on Dean?”

He's seriously not sure if they're joking or not. Is this one of these youthful pranks he never got around to understand, not even in his younger years?

“And when you're talking to him, _actually_ talking to him on the phone,” Claire continues, “you always smile and joke and sometimes you even freaking _blush_ , Dad. I've never seen you blushing before.”

Castiel pauses as he resolves himself to mull this over in his head. Is it true? Does he really do all these things?

Yes, his relationship with Dean is different than any other he ever had in his life, past and present. He talks in a way with him he would never even consider with most of the other people in his life. It feels lighthearted and easy instead of the stilted and awkward mess he usually has to handle with the majority of humankind. He's never been all that good with social interactions, he _knows_ that better than anyone, but Dean somehow makes him forget all these issues, only using his charm and his very special personality. They fit together in a manner nobody and nothing ever did before.

And from that point of view it's actually not that surprising that his kids believe he got himself a little crush.

He smiles softly at them both, at their care and excited interest in his life.

“Dean and I, we always had a relationship outside of the norm,” he explains patiently. “Or outside of _my_ norm, at least. He was my best friend back when we were young and even though we hadn't seen or spoken to each other for such a long time, the second we reconnected I just knew that he _still is_ my best friend. There just is, I don't know … I guess you could say there is a profound bond between us.”

For a moment both Claire and Jack remain silent, switching between looking at Castiel and sharing a few glances with one another, obviously considering how they should interpret this new information.

Eventually Claire asks, very slowly, like she fears Castiel might not be able to keep up otherwise, “So you're telling me, the way you two are talking to each other – that's _not_ flirting?”

Castiel can't help clearing his throat awkwardly at the mere idea of honest-to-God _flirting_ with Dean of all things. “I can assure you it's not.”

“But –”

“Here, you wanna take a look what we have been talking about just now?” Castiel proposes and before any of his kids can form even the start of a reply he already shoves his phone into Claire's hands, his recent text conversation with Dean right on display.

Which consists of a picture of a beautiful Australian shepherd and Dean's description, _“Sam's new dog is called Riot and he totally does the name justice.”_

“We were just discussing his brother's two dogs,” Castiel explains, as though it's not obvious enough. “Before that we were talking about his allegedly superior music collection and how I, apparently, 'have no taste at all' when it comes to music. And before that –”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it,” Claire cuts in as she hands the phone back to her father. “You talk about _everything_ , no matter how important.”

“I'm just saying, over the course of your lives you will have a lot of meaningful relationships,” Castiel continues, a small smile flickering over his lips. “Some will be romantic, yes, but a great deal will be not, but they are going to be as equally important. You form connections in life that will enrich your happy chapters and will help you get through the bad ones. Love and affection comes in many shapes and you should value every single one because they're gonna be the most precious things you'll ever possess.”

It's a lesson Dean taught him.

Way over twenty years ago.

Claire and Jack continue to study him with wary expressions, as though they're not so sure they should believe anything that comes out of their father's mouth right, while Castiel stays silent for the time being and gives them both a chance to let his words sink in.

And to be fair, they still don't know the entire picture.

Sometimes Castiel feels immensely guilty he hasn't told them yet that his old friend Dean is actually Dean _Winchester_ , actor extraordinaire. They still believe the man their father is talking about so much is just a regular guy with a regular life. Because at the end of the day, why should they think anything else? Castiel never gave any indication that things are not as they seem.

He considered coming clean a lot in the last few weeks. But something always held him back. A voice in his head consistently telling him that it's not important, that Dean's last name and his status don't define him in the slightest, so why should Castiel even bother to bring it up?

And of course that is true. Dean's job is just a job. And Castiel even mentioned once to his children that he's an actor, so it's not like he's hiding anything from them. He may have only skipped the magnitude of his success.

But if he's completely honest with himself it's actually fairly selfish reasons why he stays quiet about that very tiny (huge?) detail.

The minute the cat would be out of the bag Castiel just knows that nothing would be the same anymore. Castiel loves the quiet intimacy they currently having. It's just him and Dean, no one else. No nosy children trying to invade his personal business. No awkwardness because of the whole _Mystery Crush_ movement that obviously still goes strong. No Claire guilt tripping him because he never said a word in the last couple of years about having been best friends with Dean Freaking Winchester.

Yes, all of that might be quite selfish. But at least for a while he would like to have Dean all for himself.

The truth will come out soon enough, especially because despite everything he would never dare to lie to his children about anything. So one seemingly harmless question and Castiel would end up telling them everything. It's only just a matter of time.

But for now Dean is all his. And he will enjoy that as long as it's going to last.

“Dean and I are really close,” Castiel explains patiently. “And he makes me happy, yes.”

Claire squints her eyes at him. “But you're not dreaming about marrying him and having his babies?”

Castiel finds himself choking on air at that image. “No,” he states, hoping that he sounds insistent enough.

Even though he feels a blush on his cheeks he actually didn't plan to have.

“Hmmm,” Claire says in the meantime, still assessing him with such scrutiny Castiel can't help wondering whether she got that from him. If his gaze is only half as intense as hers he suddenly seriously understands why all his students start to panic as soon as they're called to the principal's office.

“You know, Dad,” Claire eventually picks up her voice, “sometimes I can't help thinking that you the weirdest guy I have ever met. And the most oblivious one.” She snorts. “And that's saying something, considering _this_ guy.”

She nods at her brother next to her.

Who instantly starts to pout. “ _Hey_!”

“It's the truth.”

“Your _face_ is the truth!”

“That doesn't even make sense.”

And all of a sudden everything is forgotten as they fall into their usual sibling bantering and Castiel is just left sighing in defeat.

The joys of parenthood.

\-----

Dean never thought he would end up as one of those guys who shoots a million pictures of some cute pets, but here he is now, seeing both Riot and Bones curl up in a way too small dog bed and not giving a damn of the cramped space as they cuddle up to each other, and takes as many photos as the memory card in his phone allows.

Because those two fuckers are freaking adorable and Dean is unable to get a hold of himself.

Furthermore, he's absolutely incapable of not sending the major part of these pictures to Cas as well.

Since at the end of the day he always feels better when he shares _everything_ with Cas.

Even dog pics.

“Who are you texting, honey?” Mary's voice suddenly jolts him out of his thoughts. “Are you harassing poor Charlie with a billion photos again?”

Dean finds himself snorting. “What do you mean, _again_?”

“Well, the last time you were over to my place you took a picture of every single riverbank or tree leaf you could find and sent it to her,” Mary reminds him. “Not to mention the probably three trillions photos of the flowers that just started blossoming.”

Dean just rolls his eyes while Sam just munches silently on a piece of leftover chicken in the background and looks highly amused.

“What are you implying?” Dean grumbles. “That I have a problem?”

Mary seems way too chipper as she responds, “I'm just saying you got overly excited when phones started to include high-definition cameras.”

Dean pouts at her, but he has no real counterargument to prove her wrong. After all, it _is_ really convenient to be able to shoot a picture in more or less any situation just by raising your phone and pushing a button. And though he's the first to admit he isn't all that tech savvy and even a bit reluctant to dive too deep into the matter, this specific function is rather practical.

So yes, he likes to take photos. Little mementos he likes to look back to in a couple of years. Like the way Sam's eyes lit up when he unwrapped his birthday presents a few hours before. Or how awesome the meal looked Dean and Mary had been preparing in Sam's way too small kitchen. Or how hilariously flustered Sam got when Mary pressed a kiss onto his cheek and ruffled his long princess hair.

In the grand scheme of things it's not much different than all the other birthdays before that and Dean's pretty sure he's got tons of similar pictures from the last years saved on his hard drive, but it's still something special nonetheless.

Particularly because days like these got quite rare, with their busy schedules. Finding time for each other in such a manner seems to get harder and harder every year and Dean is more than determined to make every single second count and let it be remembered for a long time.

“The least you can do is tell Charlie hi from us,” Mary states, jerking Dean out of his reverie. “We haven't seen her in a while.”

Dean bites his bottom lip and for a minute considers just lying to them or at least evading the topic entirely. He managed to keep the fact he reconnected with Cas under wraps for months now and it would be quite easy to continue doing so. Mom and Sam certainly wouldn't question Dean texting with Charlie, at least.

But a very insistent voice in Dean's brain had been pestering him for quite a while now to come clean about the whole thing. Yeah, there is still the _Mystery Crush_ debacle hovering over his head and Dean flushes deep red even thinking about it, but at the same time these are the most important people in his life and they deserve to not be lied to.

So in the end he clears his throat awkwardly and admits, “Well, actually … I've been texting Cas.”

For a moment there is absolutel silence and Dean hasn't got the guts to watch anyone in the eye, so he passes the time by watching the dogs breathe easily, not at all being disturbed by those humans existing right next to them.

“Cas?” Sam asks in the end. “You mean _Castiel_?”

Dean scoffs. “Yeah, who else?”

Mary shuffles a little closer, but still seems hesitant. As though she's afraid she might startle her son like a skittish animal. “You have been talking to him?”

There is so much swinging in her tone and Dean feels his chest clench. “Yeah,” he confesses.

“How long?”

Dean pulls a face. “About, um, two months now.”

“ _Two_ months?” It's obvious Mary actually intended to raise her voice, but catches herself in the end and settles on a much calmer, yet still somehow intense volume. “Wow, that's … that's nice to hear, sweetheart.”

She never pestered him after the interview. Dean had been expecting it every single second of every single day since then, always bracing himself for the inevitable. He thought it would be just a matter of time before she would jump him and ask a million uncomfortable questions only a mom is able to come up with.

But for some reason it never happened. They caught up with each other's lives at least on a weekly basis, just like they have been doing since forever, but never once did she even hint at the interview. Dean has no idea whether Sam maybe made her promise to be gentle with her oldest son and keep everything bottled inside or whether she somehow didn't put that much weight on the whole debacle as the rest of the world to begin with.

Now, however, as he watches into her big eyes he realizes that the latter is pretty much out of the question. She knew all along that the interview revealed something so precious deep inside and obviously she's been dying to learn more about it.

So either she taught herself some discipline not to harass her kids and let them come to her out of their own volition instead or Sam really had a very successful hand in this.

One way or another, it's clear that Mary won't let this whole thing slide now. Not with Dean dropping such a bombshell on her.

“Yeah, um …” Dean lowers his eyes, his mom's penetrating gaze almost unbearable to watch. “Cas wrote me a letter, after everything … and then we started talking …”

And they never stopped.

Dean still can't believe this is his life now.

“I see.” It's obvious that Mary is keeping her real emotions at bay, mostly likely not to scare Dean off and make him close up in the process. Instead she clenches her hands into fists as though she has trouble containing all these powerful feelings threatening to burst out of her and merely smiles at her son. “That's wonderful to hear. You were such good friends back then and I always thought it quite a shame you lost touch.”

Due to the tone in her voice it's more than evident that she's burning to say more, to speak her freaking mind, and it's nearly killing her keeping her curiosity in check.

Dean groans as he watches his mother's internal struggle. “Aw damn, Mom, don't look at me like that.”

Mary blinks and tries (rather unsuccessfully) for innocent. “I don't know what you mean.”

Dean rubs his temples, already feeling a headache coming his way. “Don't play coy, it doesn't suit you.”

“I'm not –”

“I appreciate that you never mentioned the interview,” Dean points out. “But Sam also told me that you felt bad for never realizing what was happening back then with Cas and me and that's just bullshit, okay?”

Mary huffs. “Language!”

Dean rolls his eyes. “I'm not living under your roof anymore.”

“And yet somehow I'm still your mother. Shocker, right?”

Dean can't help a fond smile while Sam snickers amused in the background. “And people wonder where I got my attitude from.”

Mary narrows her eyes at him and aims for a disapproving scowl, but the grin flashing over her features as she ruffles Dean's hair totally ruins the illusion.

“You wanna talk about it?” Dean says, almost sounding challenging. “Okay, let's talk about it.”

Mary arches a brow in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah, let's do it,” Dean urges. “Because at the end of the day there is nothing really worthwhile to tell.”

Mary looks rather skeptical at that while Sam continues to study him from a distance, apparently patient enough to let their mother have the floor for now.

“Yes, I got a crush on Cas when we lived next to him,” Dean admits, taking a deep breath to brace himself. “He actually was the reason I started to question my sexuality.”

Both Mary and Sam listen up at that. “Seriously?” they ask in unison.

Dean merely shrugs as though the whole thing isn't that much of a big deal. “I guess,” he admits. “I mean, there was Han Solo, of course. And Marty McFly that one summer. But I thought everyone goes a bit crazy about their favorite fictional characters or even the actors, right? It's normal, everyone does it.”

As an actor himself he certainly heard a lot of love confessions and marriage proposals directed at him in the last few years. It's not uncommon to swoon over your favorite star.

“But then I met Cas and I began to realize that it was a bit more than just getting starstruck, you know?” Dean averts his gaze as those memories come back to the surface again all at once. “Like a fucking wake-up call or something.”

His mother looks so sad all of a sudden she doesn't even take the time to scold his language again. “You could have told us, you know? Even back then.”

It's an old discussion they had many times before. Dean came out as bisexual to his family when he was nineteen years old and had his first semi-serious boyfriend. He knew even back then that this thing with Aaron wouldn't last and he could have easily kept it hidden for the time being, but he had reached a point in his life where he had gotten tired of staying quiet. So he told his parents and brother and even mentioned that this wasn't just a new development but a thing he had been carrying around for a while.

He never, however, specified an exact time frame. He's pretty sure at least his parents figured he might have struggling with this for a few months at the most.

So now hearing that it's been actual _years_ can't be all that easy for Mary, Dean assumes.

“I know I could've come to you anytime,” Dean says as he pats her wrist reassuringly. “But I guess I wasn't exactly ready back then. Not to mention the fact that I was petrified you would notice my massive crush on Cas the minute I would've come out to you.” He shudders as he remembers his train of thoughts back then. “I mean, it probably would've been ragingly obvious as soon as you would've known.”

Mary cocks her head in thought. “I guess you're right,” she admits. “I always thought it was outrageously cute how you followed Castiel around all the time.”

Dean can't help a blush even though he expected something like this coming his way. “ _Mom_!”

Mary merely smirks. “I mean, when I watched the interview and heard you saying you used to have this huge crush on a former boy from next door, it _instantly_ clicked in my head. It didn't need anything further, I suddenly knew with absolute clarity of whom you were talking about. And I realized how stupid I've been for not noticing sooner.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “You weren't _stupid_ –”

“Oh honey, I was,” she cuts in, pulling a face at herself. “I mean, when you came out to us I was contemplating for myself how I could've missed the signs. I started to mull over _a lot_ of things from the past and tried to see them in a new light, but for some reason I've never considered to add Castiel to that equation. And that's just been _sheer stupidity_ for my part.” She shakes her head in frustration. “I have no idea how I could've forgotten about him!”

Dean presses his lips into a thin line and glances quickly at Sam. His brother had been suspiciously quiet the entire time and he seriously doesn't appear like he's in any hurry to interrupt their mother and steal their little moment, but the look on his face surely indicates that he can't wait to have his own talk – probably involving a lot of teasing and emotions – with Dean as well.

Ah yeah, the joy of having a family.

“So, how is Castiel?” Mary jolts him out of his thoughts again. “Where does he live? What does he do? Is he married? Does he have kids? How does he look like?”

Before Dean does any chance to know what's happening Mary suddenly grabs his phone and opens his photo gallery.

“Show me,” she insists.

Thankfully she doesn't take a closer look at the pictures because a) she still seems to remember the importance of privacy, at least vaguely, and b) she's probably partial to accidentally discovering any photos that might not let her sleep at night for at least a week.

And though Dean is clever enough to not save any kinds of inappropriate pics on his phone he's still grateful she doesn't just scroll through them without his permission.

So he shoots her a smile and decides on a photo Cas sent him a few weeks ago. It's a picture of him with Claire and Jack, taken at a neighbor's barbecue. They're sitting at a table filled with a huge amount of food and beaming into the camera, looking so carefree and happy Dean felt a weirdly strong longing to drop about everything and hurry over to join them when Cas shared that picture with him more or less a second after it had been taken.

And more often than not he stills senses that urge when he looks at the photo. To be with them and eat some steaks and have a good time.

It sounds perfect.

“Oooh, he got very handsome,” Mary says, a smile bright as she studies the picture in front of her quite intently. “And those are his kids? Tell me about them.”

And so Dean does, feeling strangely excited to finally share this with someone and see them absorbing it all like a sponge. At least his mom hangs on every word that he says and though he knows she is amused by his enthusiasm he can't stop himself. Doesn't even want to, to be honest.

And so he talks about Cas for the rest of the night while Mary listens and Sam apparently makes plans in his head to confront his brother about all of this at a later hour.

It's a good day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it seems way too much of a coincidence to be true, but when I started posting this story I actually didn't count the weeks down to have this chapter up right in time for Sam's actual birthday ^^' That's truly a happy little accident and I'm laughing about it since the moment I finally noticed it like a week ago :DD
> 
> So #HappyBirthdaySammy!
> 
> And I hope you enjoyed the little family action! In the next chapter you'll get some more Dean and Sam time as well as finally some things getting into the motion you (and I as well) have all been waiting for :))
> 
> Until next time then!


	13. Like In The Movies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go again :D
> 
> I just wanted to give you an extra big hug this time! Last weekend was kinda hard for me (the anniversary of my father's death and Mother's Day falling on the same weekend again >.<) and reading through all your lovely comments really cheered me up a lot!
> 
> So thank you so much for being the sweetest 💗
> 
> And without further ado, I hope you have fun with the new chapter :)
> 
> -

It's quite late at night when Dean finds himself on Sam's back patio.

They've all gone to bed about an hour ago – Mary in Sam's bed, Sam on the pullout couch in his study, and Dean on the sofa in the living room because he lost a game of rock-scissors-paper again (when will he ever learn?) –, but somehow Dean found himself having lots of trouble falling asleep.

Probably because there is way too much going on his head.

Next to the sheer joy of having his family back under one roof again after what feels like an eternity Dean finally sharing his reunion with Cas in all its glory with them truly left him excited. He only planned to give them a brief report and go on to new things rather quickly – for instance, mentioning Eileen again and seeing Sam blush at her name surely would've done the trick of distracting their mother effectively, at least for the time being –, however, to probably nobody's surprise he got rather lost again as soon as he started to talk about Cas.

It's becoming a serious condition apparently.

So yeah, unloading more or less everything on them sent his brain into overdrive and the mere idea of falling asleep or at least taking a short nap seems rather impossible at the moment. After a few fruitless attempts (because nonetheless he had to try) he eventually decided that maybe catching some fresh air might put his mind at ease.

Dean takes a deep breath as his gaze roams over the garden. It's actually fairly big considering the moderate dimensions of Sam's house, but it's been one of the winning arguments for his brother to rent this place without any hesitation. There is nothing special about it apart from its size and Sam never bothered to brighten it up due to the fact that he knows as much about the proper care of plants and flowers as Dean – which means, not that much. But back when he was hunting for a proper place to live Bones instantly fell in love with the vast backyard and that sealed the deal for Sam right away.

Riot, naturally, didn't complain either when he joined their little family. The dogs spend most of their time romping around the backyard and chilling in the shadows of all the bushes and trees, like the spoiled bastards they are, and Sam never even considered doing something else with that patch of green land than leave it to his dogs as a playground. Anything pretty would've ended up trampled down anyway at some point.

Dean, however, finds the place beautiful in its own way. Yeah, there might not be carefully crafted and well-organized flowerbeds or accurately cut bushes. There is no pond or a luxurious little pavilion like in the neighbor's garden. Instead the garden is simple and a little wild and looks way more natural than all these artificial “oases of senses” Dean sees always floating around.

It's of course nothing compared to the forest surrounding his own property back in Clarksville, but Sam's garden is a still a nice bow to nature right in the middle of a big city. His dogs certainly are grateful for that.

Dean has no idea how long he's already sitting on the porch and staring into the night before he hears another person stepping outside. He doesn't have to turn around to recognize Sam's heavy steps and merely shoots him a quick glance when his brother drops onto the patio next to him and simply follows Dean's example to gaze into the backyard and hang on his own thoughts.

For a long while they just beside each other in a sort of quiet peace. Only the noises of the night and their soft breathing are audible right now.

But like all good things this must come to an end at some point.

“So, you and Cas, huh?” Sam eventually breaks the silence.

Dean feels way too serene to even roll his eyes. “We're not gonna marry next month, bitch. Just so you know.”

Sam grins. “So a fall wedding then?”

Dean huffs and jabs him lightly into the side with his elbow. “You're still not funny, Sammy. Never have been, never will be.”

“Oh, I'm _hilarious_.”

“Dream on.”

“Eileen says –”

“Oh please, she's not on a scale for this. She just wants to get into your pants and thinks laughing at your stupid jokes might be a good way in.”

Sam grimaces. “Oh _c'mon_.”

Dean merely shrugs. “We've all done it at some point, don't deny it. Either in the hopes of getting laid or because we were so blinded by all those feelings inside of us we _actually_ believed the jokes to be funny.” He sighs. “The human race is seriously pathetic. How we manage to reproduce is an absolute mystery.”

Sam nods in agreement, being witness of way too many strange human mating dances to react in any other way at this point, but there is still a little dopey smile on his lips, probably put there by the mention of Eileen's name.

“But I'm serious,” Sam says a moment later. “I'm really glad Cas is back in your life.”

Dean stays quiet, not really sure how to interpret the sudden earnestness in his brother's tone.

“I don't even really care if you had a crush on the guy and maybe still do,” Sam emphasizes. “It's just … I was really young back then, yes, but I still recall a lot from the time. I remember never seeing you with anyone like you were with Cas. And I don't mean because of your infatuation or whatever, but … you guys were _best friends_.”

Dean presses his lips together. “Yeah, we were,” he confirms, his voice a little hoarse.

“And I mean, I _know_ you weren't just spending all your time with him because you were hoping he'd laugh about your stupid jokes or kiss you or whatever,” Sam says. “You guys just had, I dunno … this special connection. Even _I_ could see that and I was like ten years old at the time. You liked him for who he was and he did the same in return.”

Dean isn't really sure what to say. He never actually realized how much Sam did notice during those months. Granted, he hung out with them from time to time, especially when their parents needed a convenient babysitter, but Dean hadn't been aware how much Sam caught up on.

“And something like you two had, it's special,” Sam adds, shrugging his shoulders. “I recall how sad you were when we moved away. For a while I barely recognized you, to be honest. And I know that Mom and Dad started to get worried about you, too.”

“Really?” Dean frowns. He hardly remembers anything from that time apart from a constant weight on his chest and depressing darkness filling his dreams. And sometimes even his waking hours.

“I mean, it didn't take much of a genius to realize you were missing Cas,” Sam points out. “The moping around, the long sighs, the sudden mood swings when one of his letters arrived. And then those dark weeks, _months_ , when those letters stopped coming.”

Dean grimaces at the reminder. Yes, that had been an unusually hard time for him back then. Sometimes he's seriously surprised he managed to dig himself out of that deep hole and turn into a halfway functioning human being again.

“So yeah, I'm just happy to hear Cas is back again.” Sam smiles softly. “I know how much he always meant to you. Beyond that crush.”

After that they stay silent for a while again, merely looking out into the night and sitting next to each other motionless. At some point both Bones and Riot join them, lured in by the humans being up at such a strange hour, and plop onto the porch right next to them without any grace whatsoever, obviously just thrilled to be close to them. They both instantly fall back asleep and Dean can't help thinking that if his schedule wouldn't be so crazy having a dog at home actually might be kinda nice.

“You're gonna visit him soon?” Sam picks the conversation back up, his tone gentle, yet with a rather curious note in it.

Meanwhile, Dean merely frowns. “Huh?”

Sam rolls his eyes. “ _Cas_!” he emphasizes. “You've been only talking with him over the phone, am I right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Dean confirms. “He lives in Kansas now. Lawrence of all places, can you believe that?”

Sam laughs lowly at that. “Seriously?”

“The world is a tiny place sometime.”

Dean buries his hand in Riot's fur right beside him and enjoys the dog making a happy sound in his sleep.

“But yeah, we've been only talking via phone, video, e-mail, whatever,” he agrees. “As you remember I was rather busy the last few months.”

“So what about now then?” Sam prods. “I mean, all that promotional stuff is over now, right? Didn't you plan to go on a little road trip when it'd be all over?”

That had surely been on Dean's agenda. Making a movie and doing all that promo work can get quite straining, so for a while now he is allowing himself some down time after all of that is dealt with. In his early years he barely got himself such breaks and it nearly brought him to the point of utter exhaustion a couple of times. So after making himself realize that he wouldn't be able to keep up with that, at least if he would have liked to reach forty and beyond, he decided to take it a bit slower. He still works hard, no question about that, but he grants himself a lot of breaks in between. And a huge vacation when it's all over.

The last few years he regularly worked on his house and property during those times, finding serenity in creating something with his hands. And since that project has been finished for quite a while now he finds himself on the road more often than not. His Dad loved taking road trips and showing his boys places all over the country and Dean found himself more than happy to continue that tradition. Just him and Baby and the open road.

Granted, with his celebrity status it's not always easy to travel entirely incognito, but thanks to things like online booking and people not expecting to see someone like him in the middle of nowhere, therefore rather believing they just caught of glimpse of some kind of doppelganger rather than Dean Winchester himself, he got around just fine. It's sometimes a bit of a challenge, yes, but it's still lots of fun.

And now all the promo tours are coming to an end and he's only got a few more appointments left before being able to spread his wings again and stop being Dean the Actor for a while.

He didn't develop any plans about a special route yet. So making a little detour to Kansas isn't all that much of a problem.

If Cas won't have any issues with it, of course.

And if Dean won't die of a heart attack beforehand. Considering the mere idea of actually being in the same room with Cas after such a long time makes his heartbeat go insane.

It doesn't even matter that they have been talking daily for the last months. Being with him again, able to touch him, to feel him, to smell him – it's something entirely different.

“Yeah, I mean,” he starts to mumble when Sam's expectant gaze is getting a little much. “I guess Kansas is as good as place as any. If Cas won't mind.”

“I'm pretty sure Cas won't mind having you around at all,” Sam says with emphasis.

Dean rolls his eyes at his brother's conviction. “How do you know? You haven't even spoken with him in over twenty years.”

Sam huffs. “I just know,” he states. “Because some things never chance. And the chances of Cas not wanting to see you – nonexistent.”

Dean wants to argue and roll his eyes very dramatically, but he finds himself unable to muster any kind of energy for that. Because deep down he knows that Sam is probably right.

Dean and Cas have grown closer over the last two months, way closer than they even have been before when they used to live next to one another and hung out on an almost daily basis. So meeting up, seeing each other face to face after all this time, seems to be indeed the next logical step. Cas never minded having Dean around, even on days with Dean being extra annoying (and to be honest, that happened quite a lot). Instead of sending him away Cas offered him a spot right next to him, not even bothered when Dean had interrupted his beloved readings sessions or whatever. He just smiled and listened to Dean rant about whatever had been riling him up that specific day, no matter how long it took.

So yeah, having Dean close by for a couple of days probably won't be much of a hardship for Cas.

Dean, however, isn't sure he's gonna survive that himself.

“Remember out first conversation after the interview?” Sam's voice jolts him out of his thoughts again. “How you told me your life isn't a rom-com? How you won't magically find each other again while angels sing in the sky?”

He snickers so hard his dogs startle awake and instantly shoot him some dirty looks.

Accompanied by Dean.

“Dude, _seriously_?” He shakes his head in deep disappointment. “You're ridiculous. And we never said anything about _angels_.”

Sam keeps on chuckling, not at all deterred by the general displeasure directed at him. “But still, your life is turning into a freaking rom-com. _You_ of all people.”

Dean slaps him upside down over the head and glares as fiercely as possible at him. “Bitch.”

Sam throws him an absurdly wide grin. “That doesn't change the fact that _Dean Fucking Winchester_ is living one of his own movies, jerk!” He takes a deep breath, as though he has to collect himself. “You think your hands will brush by accident and make you both freeze up? Will you have an almost kiss while standing right in the middle of a downpour? And, most importantly, will one of you rush to the airport to keep the other one from leaving the country forever, resulting in the most emotional love confession anyone has ever seen?”

Dean is pretty glad it's so dark that his stupid brother is unable to see his blush. “You're an idiot,” he grumbles.

“I know,” Sam says, sounding all kinds of proud of himself. “And I'm _so_ happy Cas is back in your life again.”

“Because you won't ever let me live this down?”

“Exactly.”

Dean wrestles him off the patio and swears to himself to never tell that moron anything ever again.

\---

It's only about a week later when things finally start to get into a motion. Dean had been thinking about reaching out to Cas and proposing a visit almost nonstop, but whenever he considered bringing up the subject he chickened out in the last second. Sometimes his diversion attempts actually turned out so pathetically lame that most likely even a man like Cas, still weirded out by a lot of social cues, slowly began to catch up on it.

So yeah, for most of the time Dean remained utterly ridiculous and spent most of his days chastising himself for being such a coward.

(A fact Sam would be utterly delighted to learn about and therefore makes Dean keep his mouth shut about it, even after the thousandth text of his brother demanding to hear the newest developments.)

On the particular day in question a string of messages arrives just when Dean finished reading the newest stack of scripts Benny sent over. Of course there is nothing special about it at first, a simple and completely normal conversation like they've been having them for months now.

But when Dean reads that special text Cas sends right in the middle of their back and forth he feels something tingling underneath his skin.

 **Castiel [10:35 AM]:** _My car is making a weird noise._

 **Castiel [10:35 AM]:** _It's quite annoying._

Dean smiles, imagining Cas honest-to-God pouting like a grumpy teenager at the entire unfairness of the situation.

Way too cute for his own good.

 **Dean [10:36 AM]:** _you mean that complete abomination you sent me a picture of the other day?_

 **Castiel [10:36 AM]:** _It's a classic. I thought you of all people could appreciate that._

 **Dean [10:37 AM]:** _only cause a car is old doesn't automatically make it a classic, man._

 **Castiel [10:38 AM]:** _Still, I like it._

 **Castiel [10:38 AM]:** _I got it right after my divorce and it felt like a new beginning. It's just mine, no one else's name on the sales agreement or anything. Just mine._

 **Dean [10:39 AM]:** _okay I can get behind that_

 **Dean [10:39 AM]:** _it's still super ugly though_

 **Castiel [10:40 AM]:** _I know. That is its charm._

 **Castiel [10:40 AM]:** _Everyone deserves a second chance, even ugly cars._

 **Dean [10:40 AM]:** _you're getting way too philosophical over a car, dude_

 **Castiel [10:41 AM]:** _And that's coming from YOU of all people?? You could talk hours and hours about the heart and soul of your Baby._

 **Dean [10:41 AM]:** _that's different._

 **Castiel [10:41 AM]:** _No, it's really not._

 **Dean [10:41 AM]:** _okay fine, you have a point. you love that car and she is beautiful. on the inside._

 **Castiel [10:42 AM]:** _Thank you, Dean._

 **Dean [10:42 AM]:** _so what's that weird noise she's making?_

 **Castiel [10:42 AM]:** _I don't know. It's a brief clanging here and there._

 **Castiel [10:43 AM]:** _I highly doubt it's anything serious, but I'll probably bring her to a mechanic next week to have her checked out nonetheless. I don't want her to die on me on the most inconvenient time._

And here it is. An opening. A chance.

Dean stares at the message and feels his heartbeat going up. There is nothing special about it, only a guy complaining about his antique car, and yet again it feels like the most important text Dean has ever received.

 _Damn_.

He takes a very deep breath while telling himself over and over that he _wants_ this, badly, and that there is nothing to be nervous about.

After all, it's _Cas_.

 **Dean [10:45 AM]:** _or maybe I could check out your car._

There, he said it.

He even sounded nonchalant about it.

Granted, quite easy via text message, but it still counts.

 **Castiel [10:46 AM]:** _Yeah, right._

 **Castiel [10:46 AM]:** _I'm gonna send you an audio file of the noise so you can do a long distance diagnosis and tell me in great detail what I have to do to get rid of it._

Dean rolls his eyes.

Idiot.

 **Dean [10:47 AM]:** _or I could just do it. right there, on site._

He's actually quite grateful that Cas can't either see not hear him right now. Because he's pretty sure his face is red like a tomato. And his breathing has increased to an almost embarrassing level.

 **Castiel [10:49 AM]:** _What do you mean?_

Of course there is no way to tell whether that message is meant to be in a hopeful tone or not, but Dean likes to imagine it is.

It makes the next step much easier.

 **Dean [10:50 AM]:** _well I'm planning a little road trip after my last appointment the day after tomorrow._

 **Dean [10:50 AM]:** _I could drop by by the end of the week and take a look at your car._

 **Castiel [10:51 AM]:** _Really?_

Okay, that _does_ sound kinda hopeful.

 **Dean [10:51 AM]:** _really_

 **Castiel [10:52 AM]:** _You don't have to go out of your way just to fix my car. I mean, I trust your skills more than anyone's, including every single mechanic in the area, but it's seriously not necessary to go through so much trouble for it._

Dean sighs deeply.

The guy might be one of the smartest brainiacs he ever met and yet still somehow he's a complete and utter moron.

_**Dean [10:53 AM]:** Cas, dude._

**Dean [10:53 AM]:** _you do know that the car isn't the only reason I wanna visit you, right?_

 **Dean [10:53 AM]:** _technically it isn't even in the top 10. no offense to your abomination or anything._

 **Castiel [10:54 AM]:** _None taken._

 **Dean [10:54 AM]:** _I just thought it would be neat, y'know? seeing each other again and all that. me helping you to not get ripped off by a garage for a probably minor problem is just a bonus._

 **Dean [10:54 AM]:** _I mean only if you want of course. if it's inconvenient or anything just say the word. I mean I know that you're busy more often than not._

Dean chews on his bottom lip nervously.

Now or never, it seems.

 **Castiel [10:56 AM]:** _Well, I actually could spare some time this weekend._

Dean grins brightly at that.

 **Dean [10:56 AM]:** _so then what do you say?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *takes deep breath*
> 
> IT'S HAPPENING, GUYS!!!
> 
> IT'S FINALLY HAPPENING!!!!!
> 
> I'm super excited for the next few chapters, you have no idea :D


	14. Anticipation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -
> 
> Hello, my friends, here we go again!
> 
> If everything would have gone according to plan yesterday would have been the finale of SPN and this chapter maybe would've served as a small, teeny-weeny band-aid for all the roller-coaster emotions I'm pretty sure most of us would've experienced. At least for a short while.
> 
> But since that's not the case this is just another Tuesday instead :D
> 
> I hope you'll have fun with the chapter! The reunion is actually one of the first things I wrote for this story and I'm super excited to finally be able to share it with you all!!
> 
> -

It takes about 0.03 seconds for Dean's phone starting to ring.

He grins at Cas' name showing up on the screen, at the eagerness of his friend to talk about Dean's suggestion, and he doesn't wait around to answer the video call right away.

“Hey, buddy,” he greets him, grinning brightly.

As always Cas looks gorgeous, a wonderful mixture between well-groomed and disheveled, and Dean's heart skips a beat at the sight. It's an automatic response at this point – because he still can't believe this is honestly his life now – and he's pretty sure this will never stop, as long as he lives.

“Are you serious?” Cas jumps straight to the point while he looks at Dean with wide eyes, appearing so incredulous as though his friend just proposed to give away one of kidneys or something.

He sometimes seems so absolutely baffled that Dean even keeps talking to him and Dean really has no idea why. Does Cas have no clue how downright amazing he is?

Damn, Dean seriously needs to up his game to make the idiot realize that.

“Of course I'm serious,” he agrees, beaming brightly at Cas. “My movie tour and all those press conferences are _finally_ at an end. I've only got a few appointments and a meeting with a producer left. After that is done I'm free like a bird and I could spare some time to pay you a quick visit.”

Cas, though, raises his brows in suspicion. “What do you mean, 'a quick visit'? Where exactly are you right now?”

That guy knows Dean way too well.

“Uh, at home,” he admits. “New York.”

Cas scoffs. “So there would still be several states between us.”

“Yep.”

“And I assume you're not flying?”

“Oh _hell no_ , I'm driving my Baby.”

“I fail to grasp how this can be described as 'a quick visit'.”

Dean rolls his eyes. Hard.

“Dude, it's not like I'm going all out of my way or something,” he objects. “I already planned to travel a bit around the country after everything. Making a pit stop in Kansas might as well be on my list.”

“Are you sure …?”

Dean sighs. “Cas, man,” he says. “I just … I wanna see you. And I know, we live about twenty hours apart, but at the end of day that doesn't sound like so much, right? It's at least manageable.”

Cas' demeanor gentles then and there. “You already looked it up?”

Dean finds his expression softening in return. He actually looked it up the very first day they reconnected after all this time, feeling excited and overeager like a goddamn puppy.

“I just …” He chews on his bottom lip, suddenly feeling a bit nervous. “I just thought it'd be nice, y'know? If you want, of course. If you already made plans we can surely find sometime else –”

“Like I said, I could spare some time,” Cas cuts in, apparently determined to jump in before Dean talks himself into a frenzy. “I was just planning to do my laundry and try some new recipes this weekend. Nothing I can't do at some other time.”

Dean smiles. “I mean, I could help with the recipes. I'm a fairly decent cook.”

“You already offered to fix my car,” Cas reminds him with a chuckle. “I can't have you cook as well.”

“I like cooking. It relaxes me.” He shrugs his shoulders. “And it's always more fun to cook for more people than just yourself. I'm gonna try not to poison your kids, I promise.”

Cas blinks a few times before taking a deep breath. “My children, right.” He frowns. “I guess they will have to learn then who you really are.”

Dean blinks.

“They don't know about me?”

He's not exactly certain how he's supposed to feel about this. Claire and Jack are the most important people in Cas' life, without any doubt, and the fact that he didn't tell them about Dean … well, it actually doesn't feel that great, he has to admit.

Then, however, Cas announces, “Oh, don't worry, they know about you,” and Dean releases a relieved breath at that.

“They know about you,” Cas emphasizes. “Claire even encouraged me to write that letter to you in the first place. And just a few days ago they both teased me how much time I'm spending on my phone nowadays because of you.” He chuckles. “They just don't know you're Dean _Winchester_.”

Dean frowns at that. “Seriously? They don't have a clue?”

“Not the slightest.”

Dean's actually not really sure what to make of this. “It never came up? Like ever?”

Cas only shrugs. “There might have been an opportunity or two, of course. I just didn't deem it important.”

“You don't deem it important to tell your kids about me?” Dean asks.

Cas scoffs like the mere suggestion is absolutely laughable. “I'm just saying, for me it's not important that you're a Hollywood actor,” he corrects him. “You're _Dean_. The one who once spent two hours explaining to me the entire plot of _Star Wars_. The one who let me sleep in his bed for a whole week when I had this awful fight with my parents. Who baked an apple pie for my birthday. Who was the first ever who called me his best friend.” Cas' gaze gets even more intense, even despite the modest phone connection. “ _That_ is the man I have been telling my kids about.”

Oh wow.

Dean feels himself choking up a bit. Cas sounds so sincere, so fucking genuine, and though Dean shouldn't actually be surprised by that he still kinda is. He can't remember the last time someone spoke about him in such a manner.

“Cas …”

“To be honest, I don't give much of a damn about you being a celebrity and all,” Cas announces, as bluntly as ever. Then, however, he suddenly seems to realize how that might sound and hastily adds, “Well, of course you're an amazing actor and I'm both impressed and proud of what you have achieved, it's downright baffling, quite frankly, and not to mention all those charity projects and awareness campaigns and whatever else I can't think of right now, I actually have no idea how you even manage to get any free time out of this …”

While he continues rambling, listing all of Dean's qualities in alphabetical and chronological order as though he has to prove a freaking point, there is such a warmth pressing within his chest for a moment Dean actually believes he might break into tears. He almost forgot the strong bursts of emotion Cas was able to create inside of him, just with his words or a smile or merely his general existence, and he can't help feeling a little bit dizzy because of it.

He isn't used to all this _Cas_ anymore and he honestly has no idea how he's gonna supposed to deal with finally being in the same room as the guy again.

It sounds like a major and very difficult task.

“I'm just saying,” Cas goes on in the meantime, having to take a very deep breath after all that rambling, “that when I think about you, when I talk with my children about you, the fact that you're a celebrity just hides somewhere in the background. It's a part of you, of course, and your accomplishments are amazing, no doubt about that, but at the end of the day you are _Dean_. The very reason why I've been missing you for the last decades and the very reason why I finally took the step to contact you after all this time. _That's_ what important.”

Oh shit.

Dean's heart surely is on the verge of bursting out of his chest.

And now he knows _definitely_ that he won't come out of being in Cas' vicinity again unscathed. No, it will affect him deeply and accompany him for the rest of his life, one way or another. It will be amazing, it will hurt, it will leave scars, and it will be the best thing that ever happened to him.

He seriously can't wait.

“My children will see it the same way,” Cas explains, a confident smile on his face now. “I mean, I could tell them now, considering they will find out soon enough, but on the other hand it's not really important, right?”

Dean swallows and has no idea how to reply. He's not even sure how his brain is supposed to function anymore.

“Though on the other hand,” Cas mutters while tilting his head in that familiar way, “I'm almost certain Claire _will_ kill me if I would let her remain unprepared.”

Due to the stories Cas told him about his daughter Dean definitely wouldn't be surprised about that.

“However, she will kill me _regardless_ ,” Cas adds, making a big show of debating with himself. “It doesn't really matter if I'd tell her now or later. I didn't say a word to her for _years_ , so I guess I signed my own death sentence anyway.”

Dean grimaces. “So you are a dead man either way?”

Cas chuckles, apparently not all that put out about his close demise. “Well, at least I'm gonna see you again one last time before my death, so I guess it's alright.”

Dean flushes again at the serious note in Cas' voice mixed underneath the amusement and just knows without a doubt now that he's a dead man as well.

Because he will _most definitely_ not survive this.

\-----

For the rest of the week Castiel is filled with an uncanny amount of anticipation.

Even telling himself over and over that it shouldn't be a big deal, that he's been conversing with Dean daily and having him with him in person now for a change isn't that much of a difference, truly isn't helpful.

No, instead he spends the next few days cleaning and scrubbing the house like a mad man and agonizing over every single detail. What breakfast food Dean would prefer, if he'd be fine sleeping on the pullout couch in Castiel's study or if Castiel should offer him his own bed in return as a good host is supposed to, whether Castiel's poor movie collection would be anything Dean could find himself entertained with, if he should finally learn to navigate _Netflix_ to not look like an utter fool, if there is time to repaint the ugly guest bathroom, and so on and so on.

He frets over everything and though he knows he shouldn't he can't help himself. Dean always tells him that he thinks too much, that he doesn't need to obsess over every single detail, but it's been so ingrained into Castiel's DNA it's a moot point now. There doesn't exist a world where Castiel doesn't make thoroughly detailed meal plans for the weekend and even creates an outfit schedule because he won't leave anything to coincidence.

His kids seem equal parts annoyed and amused by their father's antics and just watch him going crazy from a safe distance. It's clearly not often that Castiel goes so overboard, but it isn't an entirely foreign concept to them either, so they know to stay out of his way if they don't want to end up sucked into it too.

No, instead they remain calm and relaxed and absolutely oblivious since they have no idea that it's not just Dean The Former Neighbor but _Dean Winchester_ himself who will stay in their house very soon.

For a while Castiel seriously contemplates to just let it play out on its own and don't say a word. They would know soon enough anyway and it's not like he didn't give them any warnings that Dean will stay over the weekend and spend some time with them as well.

Technically they both know what is about to come.

Apart from that tiny detail.

Jack probably wouldn't even have minded. He is pretty relaxed all around and overall not that invested into entertainment media like most of the other kids his age. Sure, he has some actors and other celebrities he's quite fond of, but he certainly wouldn't freak out meeting them on the street by chance. No, the most he'd do is politely ask for an autograph and maybe a picture and be on his way again.

Yes, Jack seriously isn't the problem.

Claire on the other hand …

Castiel can't just let her run into the open knife like that. She'll be mad enough as it is that her father kept quiet for so long about his relationship with Dean – especially considering it's not only about the last two months, but _a honest-to-God decade_ – and Castiel surely won't make the situation any better by not giving her any chance to prepare.

However, over the course of the week he suddenly realizes what an utter coward he is. As soon as an opportunity arises to come clean to his daughter he chickens out in the last second, one flimsy excuse chasing another. At one point he even blames the position of the sun for staying silent.

So yes, pathetic.

\---

Before Castiel even knows it it's Friday early afternoon and he driving back home after work with Claire in the car. There are merely two hours left before Dean is about to arrive and the pressure is getting close to suffocating now.

“Excited about Dean yet?” Claire asks, her grin smug as she watches her father drumming nervously on the wheel.

Castiel only makes a noise in the back of his throat he even himself is unable to decipher. There is way too much going on right now to be able to distinguish any feelings.

“Dean, yes,” he sighs, feeling like a complete loser. What kind of father is afraid to tell his daughter anything? Is this a common problem or just Castiel specific? Is he the only parent in the entire universe struggling with such a scenario?

Well, at least fretting over the situation with Claire mollified his anxiety about meeting Dean after such a long time.

Castiel figures that's at least something to be happy about.

“Listen, Claire,” Castiel finally says, every single word feeling heavy, “there is something you need to know about Dean.” He swallows. “And you're most likely going to be rather angry at me for not saying something sooner.”

Claire instantly narrows her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Well …” Castiel cocks his head, unsure where to even start. At this point it seems so surreal he's not even sure if he's awake or dreaming.

“Is there something wrong with this guy?” Claire asks, the amusement in her tone slowly fading away. She's probably catching up on her father's changed mood and realizes this is a far more important conversation than she might have thought.

Castiel, however, snorts at her question. Even the mere idea of something being _wrong_ with Dean is undeniably absurd. “No, of course not.”

“Then what is it?”

“It's nothing bad, I promise,” Castiel hurries to assure because she is beginning to look wary. “It's just … I kept this to myself for such a long time now and I'm getting a bit anxious now.” He inhales deeply. “But I guess the timing is right. After dropping you back home I actually planned to drive along for a shopping trip, you know? Mainly because we actually need groceries before Dean arrives, but also, as I'm just realizing, because it's a convenient escape. This gives me a chance to come clean, kick you out of the car before the shock wears off and instantly drive off to hide between the shelves of the grocery store for at least an hour. Hopefully enough time for you to have gotten adjusted to this.”

Yes, it sounds like a decent plan.

Sure, still the path of a coward, but it's the best he can come up with at the moment.

Claire, meanwhile, just assesses him incredulously. “Are you kidding me?”

Castiel pulls a face. He seriously wishes that would be true, but alas, he's honestly that ridiculous. “I assure you, I am not 'kidding' you. Unfortunately.”

Claire blinks rapidly, obviously still having a hard time to take her father's words for granted or not.

“Okay, what is _wrong_ with this guy?”

“There is nothing wrong with Dean –”

“Then why are you acting like you're bringing a mob boss into our house?”

Castiel groans. He's apparently the worst father in the history of mankind for getting this all wrong without even trying. “This is not about _the mob_ –”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes.”

“Tell that to your face.”

“Claire –”

“Dad, I'm already getting mad at you without you even telling me what is it about that guy.”

“I know, I'm not very good at this –”

He sighs as he turns his car into their street. He's already seeing their house at the end, only about a minute until they'll reach it.

Enough time to blurt the truth about Dean right into her face and immediately speed off after throwing her onto their front yard.

Classy.

“Well, remember how I told you that Dean is an actor?” Castiel asks, his view solely fixed on their house. Just a couple of moments more.

“Yes,” Claire answers, now clear confusion in his voice again. “What about it?”

Castiel braces himself as he shoots a quick glance at her. “He is not as unknown as you might have thought.”

Claire stares at him.

“ _What_?”

Castiel tenses up and trains his focus back to their house again. Only a few more seconds left.

And then he suddenly spots it.

He blinks at first, convinced he's imagining things, but after a second or two of wondering whether he lost his mind he suddenly notices Claire catching sight of it as well.

“Dad?” She sounds puzzled. And on edge.

Castiel, however, only has eyes for the car being parked right in front of their house. And his heart gets stuck in his throat as he immediately recognizes the vehicle.

Black. Big. And – though he never been an expert on cars whatsoever – a '67 Chevy Impala. _That_ he's got on very good authority.

Castiel makes kind of an embarrassing noise and just when he thinks he might drive over his own mailbox due out of shock he notices the person leaning casually against the driver's door.

Blue jeans, a green Henley, aviator glasses.

Dean.

He looks like he just walked straight out one of his movies. Like something that just _can't_ be true.

Damn.

“Is that …?” Claire's squints her eyes in suspicion, clearly contemplating if her head is playing some dirty tricks with her. “ _Oh my God_ , is that …?”

“Dean ...” Castiel whispers.

Claire flinches in her seat.

“Wait, _WHAT_?”

Castiel doesn't say anything, just stops his car right there and then, halfway in his driveway, halfway on the sidewalk, all askew and crooked and Castiel not giving even the hint of a damn.

Dean shoots him a smirk, clearly knowing fairly well what he's doing to both Castiel and Claire and enjoying every single second of it.

That bastard.

“Dean!” Castiel says again, his voice carrying so many emotions even he can't distinguish them all.

Claire next to him begins to choke on nothing.

“Is that … are you saying …?” She sounds so rattled Castiel's first instinct is to comfort her. But at the same time he fears he might actually lose an arm in the process because Claire surely can get rather unpredictable sometimes.

And especially now, with her slowly catching up on things, Castiel wouldn't bet on coming out of this unharmed if he'd dare to reach too close.

“This is … this is _your_ Dean …?” Claire's mouth opens and closes so fast it's barely able to catch with an human eye. “Are you … are you _serious_ … _OH MY GOD_ , _**DAD**_!”

Castiel can't help offering her a quick smile, hoping it might be reassuring somewhat as he does not have the capacity to check right now. No, his entire worldview is suddenly filled with Dean.

He climbs out of the car (and only belatedly remembers to actually turn it off) and walks toward Dean in some sort of daze. Only his very last brain cells keep him from invading the man's personal space like a creeper and make him stop at an acceptable distance.

“You're early,” he accuses, pouting right into Dean's face because he can't help himself.

Dean merely chuckles at Castiel's tone. “Well, traffic wasn't that much of a bitch as I expected it to be,” he states. “And besides …”

Castiel frowns. “Besides what?”

Dean shrugs, probably aiming for nonchalant. “I guess I was a little bit eager to come here.”

That's the moment Castiel's very last brain cells die. He feels himself moving and flinging his arms around Dean's neck before he even knows what's happening. Even Dean seems rather surprised by the sudden hugging attack, at least due to the _“oof”_ sound he lets out as Castiel basically smashes their bodies together.

But he gets in with the program the very next second and wraps his strong arms around Castiel's torso.

And it's perfect.

Castiel has spent an embarrassing long time to imagine how this moment would be. What they would say to each other, how they would react to the other's presence. If it would be smooth and natural or awkward and stiff. Whether one of them (most likely Dean) would offer some witty comment and diffuse the situation with just a few words or whether the heaviness of this moment would hang between them and make the entire experience extra charged and worthy of being mentioned in history books.

Castiel is astonished to realize it's both somehow.

Because yes, this is grand and life-changing and overall also a little uncomfortable since for the love of God he has no idea what to even do next. So far his brain has only come so far as to tell him, “Hug Dean NOW!” and that's about it. For all he knows they could very well stay like this the entire weekend.

Castiel certainly wouldn't mind. Dean is warm and strong and even though he spent several long hours in his car he smells amazing.

But at the same time this entire thing is the most natural thing in the world. They're not the beloved Hollywood actor and his _Mystery Crush_. They're just two friends who have finally found each other again. It's as simple as that.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean mumbles against Castiel's temple, his breath brushing over skin and making Castiel tremble a little in the process. “Missed you, man.”

Castiel smiles warmly as he presses his friend even closer. “I missed you, too.”

And so they keep on staying like that for a long moment.

A _very_ long moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who else liked Cas' plan to just blurt the truth about Dean into Claire's face right before throwing her out of the car and driving off to hide?
> 
> It would've been magnificent 😂


	15. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DAMN, has anyone ever told you how freaking amazing you are?
> 
> Your reaction to the last chapter just blew me away! Like seriously, I think I spent twice as much time reading and replying to all your wonderful comments than writing this chapter in the first place >.<
> 
> And I loved every single second of it!! Thank you so much 💗💗💗💗
> 
> And I hope you have fun with the new chapter as well 😁
> 
> -

Somehow they manage, after finally parking Castiel's car correctly and shaking Claire out of her shock, to get into the house.

Dean appears relaxed and happy as he smiles gently at everything in his vicinity. He seems to drink it all in, the furniture, the pictures on the walls, the carpets, the drapes, _anything_ , and he looks so absolutely right in this place, like he belonged all along, that Castiel can barely take it.

So he decides to focus on his job as host for now.

 _That_ he can do.

He hopes.

He pulls Dean over to the couch in the living room and pushes him down into the soft cushions before he has even a chance to react properly.

“What do you want to drink?” Castiel asks right away, without any preamble. “I unfortunately can't offer much because I hadn't come around to go shopping yet,” he raises a pointed eyebrow at Dean for that, making it extra clear that the man's unexpected earliness is solely to blame for this nuisance, “but I've got iced tea or coffee or some sort of lemon tea I bought on a whim the other day – or perhaps just some water …”

Dean chuckles, his expression so fond it actually hurts to look at. “I'm fine, Cas, really.”

“No, you've been on the road for hours,” Castiel reminds him as though Dean might have already forgotten that part. “You must be thirsty.”

Dean's smile is starting to grow even more, already splitting his face into half. “Dude, I actually did bring something to drink with me on the way –”

“So you need nothing?” Castiel squints his eyes at him, his host mode quickly going into overdrive.

“Well …”

“I'll get you an iced tea,” Castiel decides because at the end of the day it's easier to focus on a task right now than having to deal with Dean's way too early arrival. He feels a bit overwhelmed, as if he had no time to prepare for this (even though it's completely untrue), and to have something else to fixate on than the fact that _Dean_ is currently sitting on his couch sounds overall like a good idea.

So he turns toward the kitchen without even waiting for Dean's reply, more than determined to get that iced tea, no matter what.

And he takes a very deep breath when he's all alone again.

 _Damn_.

Castiel surely anticipated that Dean's company would get him all worked up again, in several different ways, but it still feels far more intense than he planned for. And granted, he could entirely blame it on the man's inability to keep to a schedule and instead show up whenever he likes, turning everybody's life upside down in the process. However, Castiel actually isn't so sure if he wouldn't have felt the exact same way anyway if Dean had arrived right on time.

Because after all, the Winchester Effect is truly strong.

Castiel finds himself heading for the fridge, despite the fact that he could actually use a few more minutes – or hours – to collect himself and adjust to this new situation not at all inclined to hide in the kitchen like a weirdo for way too long. This might get pathetic pretty fast.

And just when he takes the iced tea out and closes the refrigerator's door again he suddenly notices another person walking into the room.

He expects Dean – _of course_ he does –, but when he looks up he sees himself confronted with his daughter instead.

Right.

Claire.

Castiel blinks at her and tries to remember where she's even been the entire time. Did she follow her father and Dean in the living room? Had she actually been in the same room as them and no one remembered to make introductions? Did Castiel seriously forget his daughter's existence for a moment there?

Well …

Claire stays silent for a long while and simply stares at him. While so many emotions run over her features that it's impossible to predict what she might do or say next.

Will she laugh? Cry? Scream? Kill her father with her own bare hands and bury his maimed remains in their backyard?

Castiel can't really tell.

This is surely an afternoon full of surprises.

“Claire …”

The sound of his voice seems to shake her out of whatever reverie she had found herself locked in because just a second later she exclaims, “ _OH MY GOD,_ _ **DAD**_!!” so loudly the walls around them actually seem to wobble a little bit.

Castiel swallows.

“Claire –”

“ _OH. MY. GOD_!” she repeats again as her glare gets close to murderous. “Are you out of your _freaking mind_?”

Castiel can't help taking a step back. He tries to be not too obvious about it, but he probably fails absolutely miserably.

“That is _DEAN WINCHESTER_!” she hisses, gesturing rapidly into the direction of the living room. “Dean Winchester – on our couch – _oh my God_!”

“I know, sweetheart,” Castiel says, trying for calm. “I invited him here. Remember?”

Claire's scowl turns so hard all of a sudden that he instantly feels the need to protect his body's weak spots.

“You're on thin ice, mister!” she points out, such a sharp edge in her tone it most likely could cut glass. “I wouldn't try to be a smartass if I were you.”

Castiel grimaces.

He vaguely recalls that _he_ is supposed to be the parental figure in this relationship, but it seems like a distant memory now. Instead the possibility of Claire easily overthrowing him and declaring command of this household appears highly possible.

“Why didn't you _say_ anything?” she growls. “You've been talking with the guy for months now and you couldn't spare _one single second_ to tell us he's _DEAN FREAKING WINCHESTER_? What _**the hell**_?”

“Claire –”

“No, no, _NO_ ,” she interrupts him harshly. “You didn't say a thing and that's _unacceptable_!”

Castiel pulls a face. “To be fair, I just tried to tell you in the car,” he defends himself, even though he knows his attempt is weak at best. “I had no idea Dean would be so early –”

“So you expect me to pat you on the shoulder and congratulate you because you intended to tell me _very last-minute_?” She stares at him incredulously. “Just when you had no other chance to get out of it anyway? That's what you're going with here?”

Castiel winces. He knows very well that he has no higher ground in this argument.

He knew all along.

“How do you even _know_ him?” she demands to learn. “ _How_?”

Castiel takes a deep breath. Time to come clean, apparently.

“Well, I told you we used to live next to each other for about a year when we were teenagers,” he explains. “We became very good friends, but eventually his family moved away. We stayed in contact via letters for a while, but life happened and it died down.” He shrugs and tries to sound nonchalant, like in the grand schemes of things it wasn't that big of a deal. Even though it couldn't be further from the truth. “And when he became this famous actor … well, I never said anything because I assumed Dean totally forgot about me. After all, it was such a long time ago. But then he mentioned me in that interview and I just had to reach out again …”

Claire stares.

And stares.

And then her eyes grow wide.

“ _HOLY. CRAP_!” she exclaims, as realization obviously hits her. “ _YOU_ are the _Mystery Crush_ , aren't you?”

Castiel grimaces.

“Well, I guess that's the term the internet came up with, yes,” he agrees, rather reluctantly. “But I'd prefer if –”

“Oh _fucking_ hell!” Claire interrupts him, obviously not even caring to listen to him at this point. “I even joked about how it sounded like Dean was talking about _you_. What _the fuck_?”

“Claire, language,” Castiel chides her because at the end of the day he is still her father and he has to make a point. Even if he might die the very next second.

“I don't care!” she hisses. “Because _**Dean Winchester**_ is in our living room and you didn't bother to mention it even once! I mean, I had _gym_ today. Look at me, I'm like a damned scarecrow!”

Castiel shakes his head instantly. “Don't say that, you look lovely.”

Claire rolls her eyes like that's the last thing she wants to hear right now. “You could've warned me nonetheless.”

“I _did_ tell you that Dean would arrive today,” Castiel points out. “So I don't exactly see any issue here.”

Claire groans quite impressively.

“You really don't, do you?” she sighs. “For you Dean Winchester is not _an actor_ , Hollywood’s precious sweetheart and the hottest thing since the invention of cheese sandwiches. For you he's just a guy, isn't he? Your friend.”

Castiel can't really argue with that. “He _is_ my friend.”

Claire pulls a face at him. “Ugh,” she complains. “I can't even be mad at you for seeing him as a person, can I?” She shakes her head in disbelief. “ _God_ , you're the worst!”

Castiel blinks, not sure whether he's supposed to reply to that or not. He seriously doesn't want to make the wrong move right now and end up beheaded.

“Um …”

“I've seen countless movies with that guy,” Claire reminds him. “ _We've_ seen them. Together. And you couldn't even bother to mention something?”

Castiel feels the guilt starting to gnaw at his bones rather mercilessly. “Claire,” he sighs. “I've never meant to hurt you or anything. I just … I just thought Dean forgot about me –”

Claire snorts. “He _clearly_ didn't.”

“Well, yes,” Castiel agrees as he tries simultaneously to suppress a blush. “I guess I was … well, surprised … after that interview.”

Of course, 'surprised' puts it mildly.

 _Very_ mildly.

“So one of the greatest actors in the history of Hollywood declares his epic love for you and you didn't tell a single soul?” Claire asks, clearly having difficulties to grasp the general concept of Castiel's chain of thoughts.

Castiel, meanwhile, licks his lips and attempts not to squirm in embarrassment. “He didn't … he didn't declare his _love_ …”

Claire huffs. “Call it whatever you wanna call it,” she states. “He told the entire world he had the hots for you and you just decided to keep it for yourself.” She folds her arms across her chest in clear disapproval. “How did you even survive work? They're _still_ talking about the _Mystery Crush_ on the schoolyard like it's the biggest and most exciting puzzle since the invention of mankind.”

Castiel inhales deeply. “It's _been_ rather challenging, I have to admit.”

“And the internet? Newspapers? Radio?”

He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. “It's been _highly_ challenging, yes.”

“ _God_ , Dad –!”

Suddenly there is some shuffling at the door and they both turn their heads, perfectly prepared to see Dean standing there, overhearing their entire conversation. Castiel can't help flushing on instinct at the mere chance.

And he releases a breath of relief when it's just Jack walking into the kitchen like on any other day.

“Hey, guys,” he greets them with a bright smile as he heads for the fridge.

Castiel shoots a glance at the big watch on the wall and notices that it's the regular time for Jack to come back home from school. Due to everything happening right now Castiel completely forgot about that.

“Jack,” he says, nodding at his son. “How was school?”

Jack merely shrugs. “Same old, I guess. Though in second period a bunch of bees got into our classroom and everything drowned into chaos for about ten minutes. I seriously don't understand why some of those girls were screaming so loudly. I mean, bees are very important and absolutely harmless if you're not exactly screeching into their tiny fuzzy faces –”

“Trust me, I don't understand it either,” Castiel agrees, sighing. “I guess some people just see a 'flying bug' and instantly have a mental breakdown.”

“At least the bees got out of the room alright –”

“Are we _seriously_ talking about bees right now?” Claire cuts him off, staring incredulously at both of them. “What the hell? There's a Hollywood star right next door and you – you –”

She flails her arms around, apparently no real idea what to do with them.

Jack merely blinks at her before a bright smile stretches over his face. “Oh yes, right,” he says. “We just said Hello. He seems nice.”

Castiel feels something soften inside of him. “He is.”

“And he's got a cool car,” Jack adds. “I mean, I don't know much about cars in general, but it looks prettier than your pile of junk, so there is that.”

“ _Hey_!”

Jack laughs, obviously delighted by his father's indignant pout.

Meanwhile, Claire started to look like she lost her mind somewhere along the way. “And you're totally okay with Dad not saying a single word it'd be _Dean Winchester_ who's about to visit us?” she asks, a clear edge in her tone once more.

Jack, however, frowns at her in confusion. “But Dad told us that Dean would come over for the weekend.”

Claire gapes at him in absolute disbelief. “You _do_ realize who the guy is, don't you?”

Jack blinks. “Yes, of course.”

Castiel looks at his son, at his sheer puzzlement by Claire's reaction to the entire situation, and he slowly begins to understand. “You knew, didn't you?” he realizes. “You knew all along who Dean really is.”

It seems more than obvious, studying Jack's face.

And just a moment later Jack nods in confirmation. “Yes, of course.” He glances at his sister. “You _didn't_ know?”

Claire grinds her teeth and seems to contemplate strangling Jack right here and now. “ _How_ the hell should I have known? Nobody said anything!”

She keeps on grumbling underneath her breath, probably plotting both their murders in great detail, and on any other day Castiel might have been at least a little concerned about that. Right this moment, though, he only has eyes for Jack.

“How did you figure it out?” he can't help wondering.

Did Jack overhear one of his conversations with Dean? Maybe even walked into a video call without Castiel even noticing it? Or did he accidentally let something slip at one point?

“Remember when you asked me last year to digitize lots of your old photographs?” Jack reminds him, casually shrugging his shoulders. “Dean was on a bunch of them.”

Castiel lifts his eyebrows in surprise.

Right.

That had entirely slipped his mind. He simply put the boxes with his old pictures in Jack's arms and didn't even stop to consider for a second what might be on them.

“ _WHAT_?” Claire exclaims, obviously in clear shock now. “You knew about this for like months and you didn't say anything?”

It seems like she is beginning to seriously consider fratricide and while Jack appears highly unbothered by the way his sister glares at him with the power of twelve suns all at once Castiel feels the strong urge to step protectively in front of him to keep him out of harm's path. Even though he's rationally quite aware that Claire won't end up killing her own brother.

Well.

Probably.

“What are you even talking about?” Jack, meanwhile, wonders, his brows knitted in bewilderment. “I _did_ tell you about Dean.”

Claire scoffs, clearly not buying it. “When?”

“When I was looking through those pictures,” Jack explains. “Several times I pointed it out. I think in those hours I mentioned Dean Winchester's name more than ever before in my entire life. And you were sitting right beside me on the couch. I mean, yes, you were reading your book, but you were still _answering_ me.”

Claire opens and closes her mouth in an impressive speed.

Castiel can't remember ever seeing her so speechless.

In the meantime, Jack narrows his eyes. “You weren't listening, were you?” he says, his tone accusing now. “You totally ignored me. The whole time.”

Castiel actually didn't expect the tables to turn so quickly. Suddenly it's Jack feeling reproachful and Claire standing in the corner.

“Um … I …”

Jack shakes his head. “We should just go back to talking about bees,” he says. “At least you seem to be listening to that.”

Claire pulls a face.

“Don't – don't be such a sourpuss,” she grumbles. “The book was really captivating, okay?”

“So you were just humoring me.”

“I … you …” She starts to squirm. “I mean, whatever – it doesn't change the fact that Dad didn't say a _thing_ about Dean _Winchester_! Which makes him officially the worst father in human history.”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “I think you're exaggerating a little bit here, sweetheart.”

“He's right,” Jack agrees. “I think the father of Genghis Khan definitely must have done lots of things wrong –”

“Ugh, you're both the worst!” Claire interjects, obviously on the verge of stomping her foot like the teenager she is. “I'm just saying some kind of warning would've been nice. Why didn't you say anything, Dad?”

Suddenly someone behind them clears their throat rather loudly.

Everyone falls silent in the kitchen and turns towards the person standing at the doorway.

Dean.

With a smirk on his lips that somehow looks both amused and sheepish at the exact same time.

“Sorry, guys,” he says, leaning against the door frame and aiming for casual. “I just wanted to remind you that I'm sitting in the room _right next door_. I can hear _everything_ you're saying.”

Claire's eyes widen in panic.

Jack simply chuckles.

And Castiel feels the strange desire to hug that man yet again.

Huh.

“Dean,” Castiel finds himself saying, “I apologize, we have been rude –”

Dean waves him off right away. “Oh no, don't worry. I guess I'm the only one to blame here for rattling everything up. It figures you need a minute or two to adjust.”

Probably more than a minute.

At least for both Castiel and Claire. Jack seems relaxed as ever.

“How about we start anew?” Dean suggests with a smile. “Make some proper introductions and such? Everything felt a bit like a whirlwind since I got here.”

Right. Introductions.

Castiel had been so overwhelmed with everything he had totally forgotten any sort of manners his parents taught him.

Dean steps closer. “I mean, of course I know all your names 'cause Cas definitely can't shut up about you –”

“Oh my God!” Claire suddenly groans before shooting her father a dark glare. “You did tell him _all_ the embarrassing childhood stories, didn't you?”

“Well …”

“Even those when I demanded to wear Mom's bras as a hat for the better part of a year?”

“Well …”

“And you probably sent him all the pictures too, didn't you?” She runs her hands through her hair as though she's close to either a temper tantrum or a nervous breakdown. “Oh dear God, please don't tell me _Dean Winchester_ has seen the photos of little me smashing her face into the cranberry sauce that Thanksgiving ten years ago?”

Dean chuckles at that. “I've actually _not_ seen that particular picture, but now I'm very intrigued.”

Claire blushes at Dean's gaze directed at her and falls silent again, obviously way too stunned by everything to find any further coherent thoughts in her head.

Meanwhile Jack spurs into action, apparently absolutely unimpressed by the significance of the situation. He merely smiles, walks toward Dean and stretches his hand out. “Hello, I'm Jack.”

Dean seems amused by Jack's manners and instantly goes in to shake hands. “I'm thrilled to finally meet you. I'm Dean.”

They continue to chat easily, about Jack's school and Dean's car, and it seems to utterly normal and familiar Castiel feels something warm blossoming in his chest.

Claire, meanwhile, gapes at the scene like she can't believe how her brother manages to remain so calm. She's either finding a new level of respect for him or is currently declaring him completely insane, Castiel can't really tell. Both is totally possible, perhaps even a combination of it.

“So I guess you must be Claire,” Dean eventually turns toward her with a soft smile on his lips. For a moment he seems to contemplate whether he should reach his hand out to her as well or keep it safe, but in the end he obviously decides to just go for it.

Claire stares at the offered hand for a long while and only moves to take it after Castiel gives her a slight nudge. “Um, yes, I'm Claire,” she mumbles, looking so downright shy all of a sudden Castiel hadn't seen since her toddler years. “It's … uh, yes, it's nice to meet you.”

Dean's grin widens. “I'm really happy to finally meet you for real. I've gotta confess, I got a bit nervous about it.”

Castiel has no idea if that's actually true or if he's only saying that to ease Claire's mind a little, but he decides he doesn't really care when he notices his daughter perking up at those words.

“Really?” she wonders, a high dose of skepticism in her tone. “Why?”

Dean shrugs. “Cas talks a lot about you guys. I figured I had to make a good impression.” He sends a subtle glance in Castiel's direction and winks at him. “After all, if you won't like me I'm pretty sure he's gonna throw me out of the house right away.”

Castiel definitely wouldn't be so cruel, but on the other hand it is actually not wrong that he values his children's opinion a great deal. If they would have ended put out by Dean in any way Castiel isn't so certain he would have invited him over a second time.

“Oh.” Claire blinks, apparently realizing that the power balance right now is much different than she originally thought. “Well … I guess then you have put a lot of effort into it. If you want to come back, I mean.”

Her voice is still unsteady, as though it takes lots of strength to gather something resembling wit in her mind and also say it out loud, but it's also nice to see her relax a little bit.

Dean, meanwhile, laughs good-naturedly. “I will give it my best, I promise.”

Claire manages to offer a shaky smile and only blush to a small amount as she realizes she's still gripping Dean's hand rather tightly. Almost a bit roughly she jerks away, like stung by something painful, and clears her throat all awkwardly.

Dean, though, doesn't comment on it, doesn't even acknowledge that anything happened, and just switches back to his easy chatter. He asks her about her weekend plans and her favorite spots in town and basically anything he obviously could think of to smooth the tension in Claire's body.

And it actually works, for a few minutes. But when Dean has the audacity to laugh his charming Winchester Laugh she is rendered speechless again and stares at the man in front of her like she can't determine whether he is a dream or not.

Dean easily goes with this as well, probably already used to handling shell-shocked fans. Instead of making her more uncomfortable by being sympathetic and pointing out her unusual behavior he acts like nothing out of the ordinary is occurring when he eventually turns to Castiel and says, “Hey, Cas, how about you show me where I can stash my stuff? So I can make myself at home and whatnot.”

Castiel straightens his back at being addressed, remembering once more than he's actually got the role of a host to fulfill. He glances at the glass of iced tea in his grip, chilly and numbing his skin without him really realizing it, and pushes it into Dean's hand before he's got any chance to react.

“First things first,” Castiel states.

Dean has a weirdly affectionate look on his face as he stares at the tea. “You're such a weirdo, man.”

Castiel merely leads Dean out of the room by the elbow while casting a quick glance back at his children. Claire looks after them, many emotions flickering over her features as she's obviously desperately trying to wrap her head around the unexpected situation at least to a certain degree. Meanwhile, Jack wonders aloud what they might have for dinner today.

Castiel sighs.

As anticipated his son won't be a problem at all, but Claire still might murder him in his sleep for withholding such vital information for such a long time. Nothing is determined yet. Even if Dean's natural charm mellowed her down a little bit for the time being.

“You know, Cas,” Dean's voice suddenly jolts him out of his reverie, “I never really believed in destiny or whatever, but _damn_ , do you even realize that you're living in my old childhood house? What are the odds, huh?”

Castiel freezes on the spot right where he is. “What?”

“Yeah, took me a moment to recognize it,” Dean says nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders. “After all, it's been half an eternity ago –”

Castiel's eyes widen in shock.

How can this be?

Seriously?

“ _Seriously_?”

Dean meets his gaze, his expression absolutely unreadable. There might be heavy feelings underneath it or just a fleeting sensation of surprise at the strange coincidence, Castiel honestly can't tell.

But then the corner of Dean's mouth start to twitch upwards.

Once.

Twice.

And then he bursts out laughing.

“Oh my God, you're so gullible, buddy!” he points out, throwing his head back in utter amusement. “You should've seen your face.”

Castiel blinks, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. “What?”

“I asked Mom the other day and she told me our old house is somewhere on the other side of town,” he explains, still laughing way too enthusiastically as he gestures into a vague direction he probably figures the right one. “You most likely never even passed it yet. But I couldn't miss the chance to mess with you.”

Castiel pouts.

Yes, he _pouts_ because that's the only proper reaction to such childish behavior.

“You're not as funny as you think you are,” he growls.

Dean snickers, not at all impressed by Castiel's scowl. “Oh honey, I'm hilarious. It's not my fault you don't have the right sense of humor.”

Castiel rolls his eyes and all of a sudden wonders why he even bothered to be excited about Dean's arrival. “You're a menace.”

“I know, pal.”

“And to think I even considered offering you my bed instead of letting you sleep on the pull-out couch in my study.” Castiel shakes his head in disappointment. “I shouldn't have wasted my time like that.”

Dean puts his hand on his heart in a fairly dramatic fashion. “Aw babe …”

“And now I'm actually mad the damned couch is so comfortable,” Castiel grumbles. “I should have gotten one with all the springs piercing itself into your back the whole night. _That_ would've been appropriate.”

Dean grins so widely as if Castiel is currently showering him with the highest compliments.

“I really missed you, man.”

Castiel tries to glower at him, even though he actually shares the sentiment. “You have a weird way of showing that.”

Dean's smile only grows bigger. “Oh don't worry, Cas, I'm gonna show you plenty in the next couple of days. _Plenty_.”

Castiel believes him without a doubt.

But he's actually not sure he's looking forward to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **EDIT:**
> 
> **Due to BlackOut Tuesday and an upset stomach I've been battling for most of the day the next chapter will be postponed to Wednesday for a change!!**
> 
> **Just a little head-ups :)**


	16. Disguise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my friends!
> 
> Here we are again, a day later, but hopefully as fresh as ever!
> 
> As a few might have already read on tumblr or seen in my notes here I decided to postpone this chapter in honor of BlackOut Tuesday. Furthermore I was lying in bed sick for most of the day as well anyway, so overall it would've been the wrong day to post a new fluffy chapter >.<
> 
> But it's Wednesday now, my upset stomach seems to be fine again, and I hope you're as excited about the chapter as I am :D
> 
> And if in the future you might notice another change in schedule you're welcome to check out my specific tag for this story on tumblr to get the latest news. You'll find the link to that in the introduction notes of the first chapter if you'd ever in need of them. Or if you wanna visit me on tumblr just because, of course :))
> 
> And so now, without further ado, I hope you have fun with the new chapter!
> 
> And stay safe, my friends 💗
> 
> -

It feels weird. Surreal.

To be here, with Cas. To see him, not just on a phone or computer screen, but _for real_. To be able to reach out and touch him. Feel him. To (hypothetically) run his hand over every inch of his body and skin to make himself clear that he's truly there.

Of course Dean doesn't do any of that because it would be all kinds of inappropriate and strange to grope Cas all over, but it's still a thought that is determined to stay stuck in Dean's head.

He's not exactly surprised by his own state of mind, he actually totally expected this to happen as soon as he'd be in the same room as Cas. He even tried to prepare himself for the situation.

But reality, as it turns out, is much more intense than anything his imaginative brain is capable coming up with and makes it exceptionally hard for him to keep himself at bay.

And Dean can't help feeling like fourteen years old again. Back when he'd been close to Cas as often as he could manage and daydreamed about finally being brave enough to do all the things he fantasied about at night. Like taking Cas' hand and link their fingers. Take in his scent from up close. Drop a kiss on his forehead.

For actually being a hormonal teenager Dean always got incredibly sappy and domestic when he was around Cas. Sure, he also dreamed about getting him into his bed, preferably naked and more than willing to do about anything what Dean could have wished for, but more often than not Dean simply spent hours imagining holding Cas' hand, taking him out on a nice date and giving him a chaste goodnight kiss on his front porch.

Even back then Dean realized that this was more than a crush. More like his hormones going haywire.

No, this was _feelings_. True and open and powerful.

And that's probably the reason why Dean never had the guts to tell Cas about it. He knew that his status as Cas' neighbor would only be a temporary affair, that the Air Force probably already started to contemplate to station his mom elsewhere the minute they moved in, and Dean was more than aware that he would have been ruined for anybody else if Cas would have actually kissed him. Hold him tight. Perhaps even declared him his boyfriend.

In the end it would have broken Dean's heart, he had been sure of that. It already was hard enough to leave his best friend behind. So he convinced himself over and over that it was just a crush, that it would dissolve itself, that he was more than happy to know Cas at his side as his friend and nothing else.

Of course young Dean had been full of shit and he realized that even then. But nowadays Dean is even more certain of it. When he was with Cas there were more feelings involved than a simple crush could ever explain away and in the end he only tried to protect his own heart. Maybe a little clumsily and when it all came down to it rather unsuccessfully because he ended up missing Cas like crazy anyway, but as a young and stupid kid he couldn't think of a better way to solve this issue.

So he stayed quiet because at the end of the day being at Cas' side was more than enough for him. Taking their relationship onto another level might have been awesome, but also would have complicated their lives in a way Dean wouldn't have been prepared for.

And naturally Dean had no idea whether any advances would have ended being well received anyway. Cas never made any indications to be interested in that sort of thing, remaining absolutely oblivious to people crushing on him or even asking him out on dates. Like the entire concept was so freaking alien to him he wouldn't even recognize it if someone would've spelled it out for him extra slowly. Dean had no clue whether confessing his feelings to Cas would have any other consequence than Cas politely rejecting him and things becoming awkward between them rather fast.

So Dean shut his mouth and decided to enjoy what he had.

And even now, as he's with Cas for the first time in over twenty years, he can't help thinking that teenage him made the right choice. Cas is still a strong and hypnotic presence, even after all this time, and Dean just knows that it would crush his very being if he would've had that and lost it again.

And besides, it's not like he continues to dream about marrying the guy or whatever. He's a grown-up now and everything. With Cas reclaiming his former position as his best friend and Dean being exceptionally happy about that.

So who cares if his heart still goes a bit crazy in the man's company?

It's probably just an old residue sensation or something.

Right?

“Well,” Cas' voice suddenly jerks him out of his thoughts, his blue gaze piercing itself through Dean's skin, “you showing up here way too early surely disrupts my plans.”

Dean, who just had dropped his duffle bag on the pull-out couch he would sleep on for the next few days, blinks at his friend while he tries hastily to collect his thoughts and bring them back into his control. Being all distracted and already starting to daydream like an idiot surely won't get him any brownie points.

So he forces himself to pull himself together and channels all his energy into an impressive eye roll. “What, you had some last-minute cleaning planned or something? The place looks awesome, Cas, trust me.”

Cas scoffs and raises his eyebrows in a way that makes it more than obvious he's dealing with big-mouthed teenagers for most of his days. “You do remember that I like to plan things ahead, right?”

“Of course I do,” Dean says with a smirk. “But I also remember that the stick up your ass sometimes sits really tight. A little spontaneity won't kill you, man.”

Cas squints his eyes at him, clearly not pleased with that, and Dean can't help himself but beam at the familiar expression directed at him. As a dumb teenager he's been the recipient of a lot of these looks and learned very early on that Cas appears like the most adorable disgruntled cat you can think of.

Yeah, teenage him got it bad.

But Dean has to admit that Cas still looks like the cutest grumpy cat in existence.

“I haven't done my grocery shopping yet,” Cas accuses. “I actually planned to drop Claire off here and drive on to the store. We're out of almost everything.”

“So?” Dean shrugs his shoulders casually. “It's not like I'm an high-end guest or whatever. Let's just go to the grocery store.”

Cas frowns at him. “You want to come with?”

“Yeah, why not?” Dean grins brightly. “I could grab some ingredients for my burgers. Woo your entire family with my cooking skills.”

Cas keeps on studying him warily. As though Dean is speaking a language completely unfamiliar to him.

“But … you _do_ realize who you are, right?” he eventually asks.

Dean chuckles. “It's hard to forget, pal.”

“So you can't just go shopping.”

“Why not?”

“People might recognize you.”

Dean smiles softly and pats Cas' shoulder. “Don't worry. I'll just disguise myself.”

“ _Disguise_?” Cas sounds like that's the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard. “Are you serious?”

“Dead.”

“But –”

“Cas, man, it will be fine,” Dean cuts in, his smile not wavering even once. “This isn't my first rodeo.”

Cas still looks at him skeptically. “You're sure about that?”

“I know what I'm doing.”

Cas tilts his head and that little movement is so achingly familiar Dean almost cries at the sight. “And how does that disguise look like?”

“Fake glasses, baseball cap, some baggy clothes,” he explains. “Charlie even got me a wig a few years back that looks like a mullet. Business in the front, party in the back.” He grins at the memory of trying that thing on for the first time and Charlie doubling over with laughter. “I don't wear it that often, to be honest, but if you're more comfortable with me having it on that's no problem.”

Cas arches his brows and assesses him from head to toe, the scrutiny so strong Dean can't suppress a shiver. “And that's enough to fool people?”

Dean sighs. “You know, Cas, the thing is people don't expect to see a celebrity when they do their weekly shopping trip,” he says. “Yes, in places like New York City or L.A. such disguises work as often as they fail. But mainly because people are actually used to seeing actors and famous musicians and athletes and anyone vaguely celebrity shaped on the streets. Here in Lawrence, Kansas, though? Yes, someone glancing at me might think I look familiar to Dean Winchester. But 99 out a 100 that's about it. They might think for a hot second I share some same features with that actor before instantly going on with their lives.”

Cas blinks. “That does actually make some sort of sense.”

“You don't need to sound so surprised.”

“You being capable to manage your life? Yeah, it's a bit surprising.”

“Thanks, babe.”

“You're welcome, dear.”

Dean beams at that. Having their banter face to face is such a new kind of exciting the butterflies in his stomach are going nuts.

“So you actually think this might work?” Cas asks, stilling sounding doubtful. “I don't want to ruin your visit before it even started. For something as mundane as _grocery shopping_.”

“Well, for me grocery shopping isn't mundane. Not anymore.”

“But still –”

“You know me, buddy,” Dean says with a sigh. “I'm a pro. I know how to keep my privacy to myself. Nobody out there even knows my brother's name. Hell, I even keep Charlie out of the spotlight most of the time and she is my assistant and follows me basically everywhere.”

Cas seems to mull this over in his head. “I guess you're right.”

“It happens on occasion.” He chuckles. “But don't worry, Cas. I won't just blindly run into my own doom or something. I will canvas the situation at hand – the size of the store, how many people are out there, etc. – and if I'll deem it safe enough I'll be ready to go. Otherwise I'll just stay in the car, crack a window and screw around on my phone until you're done with your shopping.”

Now there is clear amusement in Cas' gaze. “So you'd be okay with me leaving you behind in the car?”

Dean laughs out loud at this. “I'm gonna be a good boy and behave myself.”

“That's the very least I expect.”

Dean's smile widens in response and for a hot second there the desire to grab Cas and hug him again is almost overwhelming. He even gets a little dizzy from it.

But in the end he manages to clear his throat in a hopefully not so awkward manner and says, way too chipper, “So, we're gonna go shopping or what?”

He's pretty sure he's never been that giddy about grocery shopping since he was like five years old, but it seems Cas manages to make a lot of old feelings come back to life.

“Alright, get your disguise then,” Cas allows graciously. “And also get that wig. For extra precaution. And because I desperately want to see you in it and laugh right into your face until the end of times itself.”

“You're such a little shit.”

“As always, I aim to please.”

Dean tries for a (fake) grumble, but he can't keep that stupid grin off his features, so instead he hurries off to get his stuff and prepare for the most exciting grocery run he had for decades.

  
  


\---

  
  


It's a fairly sized supermarket and even though it's a Friday it's obviously not that late yet that lots of people got off work. The parking lot is filled moderately and Dean is confident enough that it won't be much of a problem to avoid running into anyone both inside and out here.

He perfected walking among people without being seen in the last couple of years. In the end it didn't even turn out all that complicated to begin with because at the end of the day the majority doesn't pay that much attention to anything that is going on around them. Especially during simple and boring tasks like grocery shopping. Most people just grab their stuff as fast as possible after a long day at the office and rush off to the registers without looking anyone in the eyes. It's surprisingly easy to blend in and keep your head down.

Nonetheless Dean has always been extra careful to make sure to be invisible. And a good disguise is clearly the best start to that. The glasses, though simple, clearly seem to change something about him that makes people recognize him less (Clark Kent obviously was onto something there). The baseball cap and (most of the time optional) wig do their job to hide his face and let him look different. And on top of that he always chooses clothes that are sitting a bit loose on his body and look as mundane as manageable. This time it's a typical jeans and a gray hoodie. There are probably at least twenty people in the store alone looking exactly like him right now and Dean surely wouldn't want it any other way.

Cas hadn't said all that much about the outfit. He only chuckled at the wig, as promised, and made a quick picture before Dean was able to stop him. Confronted with the cap and clothes, however, he didn't even bat his eyelashes. Merely with the glasses Cas suddenly got a weird look on his face and for a moment he seemed highly conflicted. Dean had no freaking idea about what – yeah, they're thick rimmed and look nerdy, but overall they're not that bad –, but he got no chance to ask before Cas pushed him out of the door. At least it got him distracted enough to stop laughing about the wig and Dean will count that as a win for now.

On the way to the grocery store Cas excitedly showed him everything around – even appeared to ramble a little bit, as though nervous – and Dean happily soaked it all in while simultaneously listening to the weird noise Cas' car made and quickly deciding that it's probably just a small matter with some loose screws. He still makes a mental note to look at it properly as soon as possible, though, just to be on the safe side.

“Okay, fine, let's do it then,” Cas says as he eventually parked his monstrosity on a parking space a little on the side. “We go inside, grab the stuff on my list while not wandering off or anything, and in the end I will talk with the cashier as you're keeping your head down. And, most importantly, you will let me pay because I'm the host here, capiche?”

Dean sighs. He always hates other people spending money on him, but Cas seems very determined and Dean would probably take three years and a lot of well researched and scientifically proven counterarguments before he would be able to change the guy's mind.

“Okay, fine,” he concedes. “But when you're gonna visit me next time, I'm gonna spoil you rotten, you hear me?”

They actually haven't really talked about a 'next time' or anything, but Cas looks so pleased by that Dean surely won't take it back now.

The actual shopping is a rushed affair. Despite Dean's reassurances Cas obviously had no intention of staying around unnecessarily long and spend ten minutes comparing ten different kinds of cereal. He just grabs his stuff, sometimes without even really glancing at them, and is already on the move again before Dean even had a chance to take it all in.

Furthermore, he checks every aisle like a hawk, glaring suspiciously at every person that dares to come even remotely close to their location. More than once Dean finds himself getting manhandled and his face basically shoved into the display because Cas apparently deemed the situation risky enough to get Dean out of everyone's field of vision.

“Dude, you need to relax,” Dean says, after the fifth time his nose is practically pressed against one of the shelves. “Nobody is even looking in our direction.”

“I'm just trying to get you out of harm's way.”

Dean feels something warm pressing within his chest. “I know, Cas. You've always been looking out for me.”

Some things obviously never change.

“But you've gotta trust me, okay?” Dean urges. “It's not my first time shopping, y'know? You ever seen any paparazzi pics of me buying my milk?”

Cas knits his brows together, apparently deeply in thought. “Well … no, I don't think so.”

“See? I'm a ninja.”

Dean grins proudly at that while Cas merely rolls his eyes.

“So stop being so on edge, man,” Dean urges. “You're making me all jittery.”

Cas sighs. “I guess I might have overacting a bit.”

“You think?”

Cas shoots him a glare. “Excuse me for trying not to ruin your visit before it even begun.”

Dean can't help reaching out and patting Cas' shoulder in a reassuring manner. “Don't worry, nothing's ruined,” he says. “We're just going grocery shopping, that's it. And tonight I'm gonna make you my famous burgers and everything will be alright in the world, promise.”

Cas squints at him. “You have tremendous faith in your own cooking skills, haven't you?”

“Well, I'm awesome,” Dean replies with a wide grin.

“We'll see about that,” Cas answers, apparently trying for cool, though the corners of his mouth twitching upwards clearly betraying him. “But tonight we're gonna make homemade pizza. You've been driving all the way here, you seriously don't need to cook today.”

“I'm fine, Cas –”

“Besides, I already promised Claire and Jack pizza for today,” Cas adds. “You don't wanna see what would happen if I'd step back from that promise. Trust me, it would be ugly.”

Somehow Dean honestly doesn't doubt that.

“Yeah, okay, you've got a point,” he concedes. “And it's not like I'm not crazy for pizza too anyway, so I guess it's fine.”

Cas huffs. “Thank you so much for your permission.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Idiot.”

“I also was planning to make a pie today,” Cas continues. “I hope you don't mind that one either?”

Dean feels how his face instantly lights up at those words. “Pie? Really?”

Cas snorts like his surprise is truly absurd. “Yes, of course,” he says. “When Dean Winchester is coming over you _have_ to make a pie. I'm pretty sure it's law by now.”

Well, Dean hasn't talked with his Congressman yet, but yeah, Cas is surely right about that. It should be perpetuated in the Constitution forever.

And yet …

“You don't _have_ to,” Dean points out, even though those words actually hurt his very soul.

“Stop being complicated, Dean,” Cas sighs. “We're gonna make pizza and pie today and that's final. Deal with it or go back home.”

Dean's grin turns so big it's splitting his face into half. “I guess I can arrange myself with that then.”

And so they continue shopping and it feels like the most normal thing in the world.

  
  


\---

  
  


They get eventually out of the store without anyone even glancing at Dean's direction. Even at the register Cas proves rather efficient at distracting the cashier with idle small talk (a trait he obviously learned sometime after Dean moved away considering as a teenager Cas barely could understand the concept of small talk to begin with) and soon enough they're outside on the parking lot and stashing the massive amount of groceries into the trunk of Cas' car.

“See? That wasn't so bad, was it?” Dean shoots him a quick smile as he simultaneously saves the eggs from getting squashed by the enormous watermelon Cas couldn't resist buying.

“It wasn't, no,” Cas admits. “Though I still don't understand why you insisted coming with in the first place.”

Dean sighs. “You know, Cas, I love my job and everything, but all that fame stuff really changed my life, in ways I've never imagined. And doing mundane things like shopping – well, that got pretty rare for me. Either I've got someone else to go shopping for me or I shop online under a fake name and tell them to park the stuff on my front door –” He shrugs. “Yeah, I don't do a lot of actual shopping anymore. And for you it may be normal and mundane and perhaps even annoying at times, but for me it's something special, in a weird way.”

Cas looks at him intently for a moment, obviously mulling those words over in his head. “I guess that makes sense.”

Dean smiles. If anyone would be able to get it, he's not surprised it's Cas.

“So you're easy to please, huh?” Cas smirks at that. “That might come in handy.”

Dean can't help a chuckle. “We can do _all_ the mundane stuff this weekend,” he proposes. “Shopping, cooking, doing laundry. I'll even mow your lawn.”

“Well, that sounds –”

Cas suddenly stops mid-sentence, his eyes going wide as he stares at something behind Dean's back.

Dean wants to turn around, just out of instinct to see what is spooking his friend so much, but before he's able to do so Cas holds him off by placing his hand on Dean's cheek to keep him from moving his head.

Dean freezes and senses heat rising up his body at the unexpected proximity.

“Uh …”

All of a sudden everything fades away on the edges, solely Cas' warm palm against his skin is the only thing that matters in the world. Dean feels his throat drying up as he stares at the man in front of him with wide eyes.

“Don't turn around,” Cas whispers while having the absolute audacity to step even closer, short-circuiting Dean's brain in the process. “Just get in the car. Pretend to take a phone call or something.”

Dean has no idea what is happening, but fortunately his body is still capable to follow orders. So while his mind has trouble catching up his legs nearly fling him into the passenger seat and his hand pulls his phone out of his pocket.

He's just about to press the silent device to his ear and considers whether he should say something and fake a conversation or just keep quiet when he notices another person suddenly showing up next to Cas.

Dean can't really see them from his point of view, but he notices blonde hair and a small figure and a clearly female voice eagerly talking to Cas, apparently leaving the poor guy no time to get a word in as well.

Dean merely sinks deeper into his seat and tries to stay invisible as Cas calmly resumes to stow away his shopping and lets that woman talk his ear off. There is no edge in her tone, no excitement, just a simple easiness, so Dean is pretty sure that she didn't catch a good look of him. Of course she totally spotted Cas' companion climbing into the car, there is no doubt about that, but she doesn't make any move to come closer. Even though thanks to the rearview mirror Dean notices her glancing into his direction one or two times and she clearly seems to ask Cas a question about him, she stays right where she is, content enough to listen to his answer without invading Dean's personal space.

Soon afterwards they say their goodbyes – Dean vaguely hears Cas tell her something about melting ice cream among his groceries (which isn't even a lie) – and as soon as he deems it safe enough Cas joins Dean in the car again.

“I'm sorry,” he says instantly. “That was Becky Rosen. She lives a bit down the street. Quite a lovely woman, but unfortunately also a little gossip and nosy. I couldn't let her really catch sight of you.”

Dean nods along. “It's fine, Cas.”

“Of course she noticed you, so I had to tell her something to get her off our backs,” Cas adds, now the amusement back in his voice . “So for your information, your name is Mike and you're going through a very nasty breakup. And you're staying with me and the kids for the weekend to get out of your far too empty apartment in town and even though you're horrible company right now because you hate the world and everything I graciously let you into my house to feed you back to health and shape you into a hopefully decent human being again.”

Dean can't help a chuckle. “You came up with that just off the bat?”

Cas shrugs his shoulders. “Well, that's actually the cover story I made up in case any of my neighbors might notice your presence,” he explains. “After all, your car in my driveway is very distinctive. It's possible they will notice something.”

It's not bad thinking, Dean has to give him that.

“So … Mike, huh?”

Cas shoots him a grin. “Everyone knows a Mike, right? They're a dime a dozen.”

“True,” Dean agrees. “So you're nursing me back to my old self after my girlfriend or boyfriend so viciously dumped me?”

“Boyfriend,” Cas tells him. Astonishingly quickly, like there is no doubt about that. “He was a scumbag anyway. You're better off without him.”

Dean laughs and laughs and laughs. “Thank God I have you looking out for me.”

“Always,” Cas says, his tone soft.

And Dean smiles at him, all the way back to his house.

Smiles and feels all warm inside as the sensation of Cas' hand on his cheek lingers for way longer than he ever thought possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I never thought I'd write over 4k words of two grown men going grocery shopping, but here we are ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> This story seriously has always something new for me up on its sleeves!
> 
> And I hope you enjoyed it :)  
> Until next time!


	17. Rumors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -
> 
> Hello, my friends!
> 
> And it's yet another Tuesday. 
> 
> Damn, I can't really believe we're on chapter 17 already >.< It feels like I started posting like yesterday. 
> 
> Well, this time you're gonna get fluff and family bonding and lots of Destiel interaction.
> 
> A little heads-up though: There will be a cliffhanger at the end of this chapter. Nothing bad or anything, but I know these days lots of people would like to know beforehand what they're up against. So if you're not really down for that at the moment, don't worry, the cliffhanger will be quickly resolved in the next chapter. Just wait another week and you can read two chapters for the price of one :D
> 
> For anyone else who likes to speculate for the rest of the week, have fun :))
> 
> -

Dean always liked cooking.

Working with your hands, throwing some ingredients together and then – hopefully – be amazed and knocked off your feet by the result.

It always relaxed him, even back as a teenager, with Mary working most of the time and both John and Sam being pathetically useless in the kitchen. He can't even really recall when he took over the reign everything concerning food, but he vaguely remembers it being shortly after they moved away from Cas. Dean had been depressed even on a good day and cooking gave him a welcome distraction and an efficient outlet for all his emotions. If he felt angry he made sure to punch his dough. If he was sad he tried his hands on something complicated and delicate, his mind so focused on not screwing it up that he was more often than not able to ban any dark thoughts.

Sure, it wasn't a remedy to cure all ill, but it was effective enough for the time being.

Moreover, it got them finally some decent food on the table and nobody in his family complained about that.

But he has to confess it's been a while since he worked with someone else in the kitchen. The last one actually might've been Lisa, if Dean remembers correctly, but those instances had been quite rare anyway and they never had the opportunity to develop a certain groove. Dean is pretty sure over time they would've become a well-rehearsed team, moving through the kitchen like in a smooth dance, but both their schedules had been way too full for them to have lots of such moments.

Dean totally expects to act a bit clumsy with Cas around as well. After all, he is used to working alone and most people don't automatically dance well together at their first try.

But it turns out to be surprisingly flawless with Cas. Sure, Dean sometimes finds himself hesitating and bumping into his friend, but it's mainly because he's not familiar with the kitchen and where every single item is stashed. The whole thing still feels _right_ in a way it only happened rarely before, though.

They start with the pizza dough and Cas proves to have lots of opinions about yeast. Not to mention the fact that he knows its entire history throughout mankind and doesn't hesitate to share this with Dean as he simultaneously kneads the bulk of ingredients into something usable. Dean isn't surprised in the slightest about Cas' vast knowledge and his desire to ramble about it for no real reason, so he lets his friend go on and on as he simply smiles and tries not too hard to admire Cas' strong hands doing all the work.

After the dough is finally finished and set aside to give it time to rise they both take care of the pie. Dean decided on apple pie with an extra shot of cinnamon and he finds himself eagerly slicing the apples while Cas takes care of the batter. They're working well together, like they've baked pies many times before, and Dean can't help loving it.

As a teenager he thought about this exact same scenario embarrassingly often – just the two of them in a kitchen creating some awesome pie – and it feels a bit surreal it's seriously happening right now.

He actually ends up a little disappointed when they finish up fairly quickly and push the pie in the oven, determined to see it ready before it's time for the pizza.

For about the next hour they do the dishes, clean up the kitchen, joke and banter, and simply just act so domestic that Dean almost wants to cry.

And when they eventually pull the pie out of the oven, hot and beautiful and the smell so absolutely wonderful, Dean indeed feels a few tears prickling in his eyes. Thankfully he manages not to weep and sob like a little baby, but it's a very close call. Pie just has that kind of effect on him.

So he quickly focuses on finishing up the pizza before he'd get overly emotional over pie. Or Cas having flour in his hair and smelling like cinnamon.

Yeah, not going there.

Dean takes a deep breath as he rolls out the dough and forces himself to concentrate on the task at hand.

That's why it takes him a long moment to notice when they're suddenly not alone anymore in the kitchen.

He's just forming the dough into a pizza-like shape while arguing with Cas about the best tomato sauce when he suddenly registers a shuffling sound and shoots a quick glance at the doorway, more out of the primal instinct to automatically turn towards noises in your vicinity rather than out of real curiosity. After all, he's got a pizza to focus on.

But then he sees Claire standing at the door and he can't help freezing up a little.

She changed clothes somewhere along the way and looks like she had been to the shower not so long ago (Dean vaguely remembers her complaining to her father about gym class). Her expression, however, is still one of disbelief as she stares at Cas and Dean bickering passionately about something so absolutely mundane. It seems she has no idea what to make of the picture unfolding right in front of her.

“Hey, Claire,” Dean says and throws a bright smile in her direction, hoping that his casual tone might loosen her up a bit.

But she only flinches as she finds herself addressed in such a manner and Dean instantly feels bad. Even though he has no clue what he could have done differently in such a situation. Ignore her maybe? Pretend she doesn't exist? Let her have a moment of two of actually believing she is just watching a very odd movie with Dean in the leading role?

“This is weird,” she eventually announces, shaking her head in a way as if she has lost hope for all of humanity in a heartbeat.

Cas, in the meantime – knowing his daughter way better than anybody else – completely ignores the so-called weirdness and replies, in a fairly nonchalant manner, “Do you want to continue standing around uselessly and staring at us or might it actually be possible for you to get your butt to work and help us a little?”

Claire's face instantly morphs into a scowl. “I haven't been staring _that_ long, you know?”

“Well, you _have_ , actually,” Cas objects, his eyes still fixed on the half-finished tomato sauce in front of him. As if this is a totally normal conversation on a totally normal day. “You've been standing around there for like ten minutes.”

Claire rolls her eyes. “You're exaggerating, Dad. _Profoundly_.”

“I'm really not.”

“Dad –”

“Just get to work and set the table.”

“The pizza isn't even in the oven yet.”

“Who cares? It's not like the plates and cutlery will go bad if they're out of their cupboards for a bit longer.”

They keep on arguing for a few minutes about the necessity of Cas' request before Claire finally gives in. But not without releasing the characteristic frustrated _my-life-is-so-unfair_ groan every single teenager knows by heart.

Dean quietly watches father and daughter interact and can't help feeling awed how well Cas seems to know her. Granted, from the outside it just looks like a parent ordering their child around to get them to help a little in the household, but Dean is pretty sure Cas is only doing that to help Claire relax and get adjusted to the situation. In blatantly ignoring Dean's superstar status and acting like nothing is out of the ordinary, like this is any other day, he's giving her a reason not to freak out over everything but instead accept it as a new normalcy.

And it indeed appears to work. At least Claire goes over to working around in the kitchen – while naturally grumbling underneath her breath the entire time – as though it's the most normal thing in the world. She doesn't even flinch anymore when Dean eventually dares to ask her a few questions – about general stuff, mainly how she actually survives to live with Cas on a daily basis – and it almost feels like a smooth transition.

Sure, she's still shooting him glances from time to time, like she's wondering whether she entered an odd alternate universe or something, but it's not like Dean can really blame her on that. Suddenly having a person who you've only seen on the big screen so far in your kitchen doing the simplest things surely can't be easy to digest at first. However, instead of pointing that out Dean takes a lesson out of Cas' book and acts as though everything is normal.

Soon enough, as the smell of the pizza baking in the oven gets stronger and stronger, Jack joins them as well and Claire seems to relax a bit more in his company. It's quite a subtle change and Dean might've missed it if he would've blinked one time too many, but having Jack there with her really appears to put her a little bit more at ease. Dean has no idea whether this is due to their sibling connection or whether she's just happy to have another distraction to focus on, but he's glad to see her loosen up around him, so he seriously doesn't care.

Soon enough they sit around the table and enjoy the fresh pizza and a large bowl of salad Cas insisted to add. Of course Dean could've lived on without the latter, but considering with children present it's actually not that bad to have something extra healthy on the side as well. He even decides to be a good role model and takes a huge portion, eased by the thought that Sam isn't around to make a big deal of it and declare the situation an actual miracle only worthy of God himself.

However, according to the amused glances Cas throws in his direction his friend might indeed have a similar thought crossing his mind. Dean, at least, surely finds himself grateful that Cas doesn't have Sam's number to share this experience with Dean's brother.

And Dean's makes an urgent mental note to _never_ offer Cas Sam's contact details. This would only end in a massive disaster for him.

The pizza, as expected, is delicious and Dean can't help moaning a little inappropriately when he first tastes it. Cas actually glowers at the noises coming out of his mouth, but Claire cackles in clear amusement, the last of the tension sitting in her muscles draining away, and Dean calls it a success.

Dean definitely enjoys himself. The food is great and the company even better. It doesn't take long the conversation to drift to various difficult topics. Dean's road trip, the petunias in Cas' garden, Jack's overdue library books, Claire's oncoming driver's license – it just feels easy and natural. As though Dean is sitting together with his own family.

“Claire showed me something called _DeanWatch_ earlier,” Jack eventually informs them, his gaze fixed on Dean. “It's really fascinating how obsessed some people are with your whereabouts.”

Dean merely groans at the reminder. “Please don't get me started.”

That's seriously something he would love to live without. Even though he probably asked for it when he decided to pursue his career as a serious actor.

“What's _DeanWatch_?” Cas wonders, his eyes flickering back and forth between as he searches for an answer.

“It's a group of fans dedicating their lives to let everyone else know where Dean is at all times of the day,” Jack explains patiently. Like this is a perfectly normal thing.

Cas, meanwhile, stares at him in surprise. “Really?”

“It's not as bad as that sounds,” Dean instantly waves him off. “I mean, yeah, they get a bit … um, _eager_ from time to time, but it's not like they're stalking me or anything. At least not in person.”

Cas frowns. “That doesn't sound much better.”

Dean shrugs like it's not a big deal. Even though it actually took him a while to get used to it.

“They just follow my social media and hashtags and anyone pinning me to a certain location at a certain time,” Dean continues. “During press tours and everything that's actually quite easy. I mean, I'm not hiding anyway, so I don't mind that much. As long as they don't follow me to the bathroom I'm fine with it.”

Cas knits his brows together, obviously having trouble imaging such a life in general.

“I'm a public figure during that time and I learned to embrace that,” Dean tells him with a crooked smile. “So if my fans learn in what city I'm staying, at what restaurant I've been eating, at what time I petted a dog on the street right next to a donut store – hell, who cares? If they feel closer to me that way, so be it.”

It's been a bit odd to accept that at first, he actually has to admit, but in the end he decided to just roll with it. It wasn't like the media hadn't been on his feet during such promo tours anyway as well.

“And apart from those official engagements that _DeanWatch_ site is just a big rumor mill,” Dean says with a shrug. “I mean, keeping my private life private has always been a huge priority for me. So when all those appointments are over and I've finally got time for myself it's end of the line for them as well. I just 'drop off the face of the earth', as they like to call it, and they just continue speculating where I might have disappeared to. And those rumors have never been right. Not even close.”

It's actually kinda fun to check the site and see what most of his fans think he might spend time after all his business is done with. More often than not they believe him to be in the company of other famous actors because apparently that's what lots of fans assume celebrities do in their free time. Some suggest him simply being with his family (which, sometimes actually hadn't been that far off).

And after his breakup with Lisa a majority of his fans presumed him being with her to reconcile their relationship. A lot of heartfelt rumors made their rounds for years every time he took a break and his fans had no real proof where he might be. Stories about him showing up on Lisa's doorstep, dropping to his knees and begging her to take him back. Fairy tales about tears and forgiveness and proposals and whatnot.

None of that has ever been true, but Dean never bothered to point that out to them.

“Well, this times your fans are actually right for a change,” Claire says with a snort. “They know _exactly_ where you are at this very moment.”

Dean freezes up immediately and gapes at her in shock. “What?”

Oh shit.

Did someone spot him entering the town in his car? Or during that shopping trip with Cas? He's been extra careful and everything, but at the same time there is no guaranteed safety and –

“They know Dean's in Lawrence?” Cas asks, sounding just as alarmed as Dean feels.

Claire, however, seems way too calm as she simply shakes her head. “No, don't worry. They don't know his exact location. Just the company he's in.”

And then she fixes her father with a pointed stare and Dean all of a sudden realizes what she means.

Oh.

“They assume I'm with Cas, huh?” he wonders, sighing in defeat because he knows the answer already.

Claire nods in confirmation. “Your _Mystery Crush_? Yeah.” She huffs. “They believe unanimously that you're with him right now. And considering you're sitting here at this table they're clearly not wrong, are they?”

Well, they're most certainly not.

For a change.

But considering the rumor mills have been on overdrive since the interview and never really shut up ever since that's actually not surprising.

“Your fans know you're in contact with me again?” Cas asks, sounding both wary and curious. Like he has no real idea what to expect of that.

“Well, they don't _know_ per se,” Dean explains. “I didn't tell them or anything. They're just assuming. Or day dreaming. Or whatever.”

Cas squints his eyes. “Seeing that you _are_ actually back in contact with me, this might not count as dreaming after all.”

Dean huffs. “Well, they don't know that.”

“But they are right nonetheless.”

“Whatever.”

Dean tried to keep far away from the entire _Mystery Crush_ mess going through the media and social sites as much as possible. He knows that a lot of people started to speculate as soon as the interview ended, imagining scenario after scenario of Dean reuniting with his long-lost love in the most dramatic and rom-com worthy fashion humankind has ever seen. And he's quite aware that it's only gotten worse in the last few weeks. People he's been working with or just had been standing in his general vicinity for longer than five seconds noticing him being on his phone constantly with a big grin on his face. Coworkers pointing out that he seemed happier. More relaxed.

Yes, people began to wonder more and more whether he's in love, perhaps even in a committed relationship, and whether the counterpart actually might be the man he's been gushing over just a few months ago on national TV.

Dean merely sighed at all those rumors hitting him and just let them wash over him. He's already used to fans believing he might be smitten only because he smiled at someone. He just has to behave a bit more differently, perhaps only an additional bounce in his steps, and everyone around him is going crazy. His eyes merely have to sparkle a little more and he's suddenly deeply and irrevocably in love apparently.

“So, will you tell your fans?” Cas jolts Dean out of his thoughts again. “Will you tell them the truth?”

Dean blinks at him, as he needs a moment to gather his thoughts again. “What truth?”

“That we're back in contact again,” Cas reminds him with an eye roll.

“Oh, that.” He cocks his head to one side. “Well, I actually didn't intent to, to be honest.”

Cas wrinkles his forehead. “Why not?”

“Because this is private,” Dean states. “And as you very well know I like to keep my privacy to myself, thank you very much.”

Cas scoffs. “I'm not saying you have to tell them the entire story. But I'm sure your fans would really like to know we're talking with each other again. And that the interview had been the starting point.”

Dean rubs his temples. Poor guy, he really has no clue what mighty wave he would trigger off with such a seemingly innocent statement.

“Dude, this would only result in those rumors _never_ dying down,” he makes himself clear. “No, they would go batshit crazy about this.”

“So?”

“Do you have any idea what this might spark to life?” Dean shakes his head in disbelief. “Right now they have nothing more than their assumptions. But if I'd tell them it was actually _true_ –”

“So you want to continue lying to them?”

“I'm not _lying_ ,” Dean has to point out. “I'm just avoiding any questions regarding that topic.”

“Well, evading the truth is actually quite close to lying –”

“Dude, seriously?” Dean sighs deeply. “You want all of the media talking nonstop about you again?”

Cas fixes him with a stare that's so intense a shiver runs down Dean's spine. “They have been doing that for months now. I got used to it along the way.” A little smile plays over his lips. “It's actually getting quite entertaining, to be frank.”

Dean raises a brow. “And you're okay with that?”

“Apart from a few selected people nobody really knows it's me anyway,” Cas says. “So why should that bother me? And you telling them the truth of what really happened might actually tame down those rumor mills.”

He actually does have a point, Dean has to admit.

The true story, at least, is far less adventurous and over-the-top dramatic than most of the stuff his fans made up over the last few weeks.

“So what?” he wonders. “You want me to just tell them we're in contact again? Or should I give them the whole story? How we lived next to each other, the tree house, me moving away. How we lost contact after exchanging letters for a while, how I tried reaching out to you again twelve years ago and you rejected me? How the interview happened many years later and you sent a letter to my fan address? You want to give them all?”

Because Dean has to make this all crystal clear before talking to _anyone_ about this.

Cas' expression, however, changes into something completely unreadable. “Twelve years ago …?”

Dean can't help a wince. He actually didn't mean to mention that specific event _ever_.

“Uh, yeah, sorry,” he mumbles, feeling his cheeks heat as he hastily flails his arms as though he's shooing those last words away. “I didn't mean – I just – uh, let's forget that, it's not important at all –”

“What happened twelve years ago?” Jack's voice suddenly pipes up, his big and trusting eyes shooting back and forth between his father and Dean with obvious interest.

Dean finds himself grimacing. For a moment he totally forgot about the children being there with them as well, listening to every single word, and he curses himself for being so stupid. How come he managed to never bring it up with Cas even once and now he's blurting it out, with his kids overhearing everything on top of that?

“Uh … it's nothing …” he mutters, knowing fairly well that he's anything but convincing but not at all prepared to share that story right here and now.

Jack, however, doesn't seem impressed by Dean's dismissive attempt and instead turns toward his father instead. “He tried to reach out to you twelve years ago and you rejected him?” he asks Cas, clear surprise in his tone.

Claire right next to him just gapes at Cas with widened eyes, obviously baffled about that information.

Cas, meanwhile, looks puzzled and overwhelmed all of a sudden. “Uuuhh …”

And Dean hates to see him like this.

Granted, he'd rather not talk about this _ever_ because it still hurts, but it's out in the open now and he seriously doesn't want Cas' children to blame their dad for everything that went down back then.

“It's not his fault,” Dean quickly jumps in. “It's … you shouldn't blame him.”

Jack tilts his head in just about the same way Cas always does. “So then what happened back then?”

Dean hastily glances at Cas, hoping to find some answer in his features, hoping for _something_ , even some hint of rage for having the audacity to bring that up right in front of Claire and Jack, but the guy's face remains indecipherable.

But since he doesn't seem outright hostile for Dean to continue, Dean does just that.

“I reached out to your dad, about twelve years ago,” he explains, his gaze still lowered. “I made Benny, my manager – I made him look up your father's address and everything. And I sent him a letter.” Dean presses his lips into a thin line and attempts to look not too emotional about this. “But your dad decided to not restore our contact again.”

The kids stare at him with raised brows.

And Cas flinches. Like it hurts to hear it spoken out loud.

Dean surely shares that feeling.

“It's been my fault,” Dean hurries to clarify because the last thing he wants to do is blame Cas for all that has happened. “Mine all around. I was the one who broke off our letter exchange the first time. I … well, I was a stupid teenager making stupid decisions. I thought I was protecting myself and also Cas in the process …” He believed he would be able to shield his heart and make this entire mess a little less painful. “So when I eventually reached a point in my life where I felt … um, brave enough to try again your father obviously didn't appreciate my effort.”

He winces when he recalls the moment he learned the truth of Cas' still lingering anger. He had hoped it might have not mattered anymore, that over a decade later Cas' feelings could have changed on the subject, but he'd been wrong and it ached pretty badly.

But he also understood.

“The first time I ghosted him, without any explanation or even an apology,” Dean says, his chest starting to hurt uncomfortably. “And he clearly didn't want to subject himself to something like that again. I completely understood and backed out again. So that's why, after that, I never tried again.”

Claire and Jack just gape at him with a myriad of emotions running over their features.

And Cas … well, he looks like he's seen a ghost.

“I'm sorry,” Dean says, now directed specifically at Cas. “I don't … I didn't mean to bring it up, _ever_ … considering you never mentioned it either since we started talking again …” He inhales deeply. “I wanted to just let it go, but Cas – man, it's okay. I never blamed you, you had _every right_ to be pissed at me. I'm just happy you gave me a second chance.”

Cas blinks at him. Motionless.

And then he suddenly turns toward his children and obviously the expression on his face tells at least Claire everything she needs to know because the very next second she leaps to her feet and drags Jack into an upright position with her.

“C'mon, Jack, we have to do – uh, the thing.”

“The thing?” Jack asks confusedly, clearly not having caught up on the sign their father just sent them. “What thing?”

“Oh my God, _c'mon_ ,” Claire growls in response and pulls him with her out of the dining room, completely ignoring his protests.

And suddenly Dean and Cas are all alone again.

Dean immediately feels a dark dread closing up his chest and he rushes to convince himself to spur into action before any kind of crippling doubt might render him speechless.

“We don't need to talk about it, okay?” he insists, his gaze downcast since he's not sure he'd survive looking into Cas' eyes right now. “Like I said, you had every right to hate my guts for dropping you like a hot potato when we were kids. It's okay –”

“No, it's not,” Cas cuts in, his voice weirdly shaky. “We _have_ to talk about this.”

Dean lowers his gaze even further and feels his throat going dry. He seriously avoided this issue for almost a decade and even now, when he got back in contact with Cas, he managed to ban it into the back of his mind. He considered all of this a new start and was more than willing to let the past go.

But Cas seems deep set and very determined, so unfortunately it isn't likely Dean might get out of this unscathed.

“Cas, dude, _c'mon_ ,” he says, almost _whines_. “I really didn't hold any grudge, okay? You had every right to tell me to piss off and that's it. I'm just happy you gave me another chance. So let's forget about it.”

Cas' gaze gets even more piercing. “No.”

“Cas –”

“No, we _need_ to address this,” Cas insists. “Because I don't have the slightest idea what you're even talking about.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when in the earlier chapters there were hints that Dean had been trying to reach out to Cas before?
> 
> Well, here we are now :)
> 
> And it seems like the whole thing has not been what Dean always believed it to be.
> 
> Until the next chapter then!


	18. The Letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my friends!
> 
> First of all, since it's been my birthday last Friday I totally expect a red carpet, cakes and presents from you this time! Just a fair warning ;D
> 
> And as further motivation I'm bringing you the longest chapter yet!
> 
> Have fun ^^
> 
> -

Dean looks so utterly confused it would be both hilarious and endearing if the situation would be a different one.

But as it is right now Castiel doesn't find himself laughing.

“What do you mean?” Dean asks, blinking so rapidly as though he doesn't know what to do with his eyes. “You … I mean … I sent you a letter twelve years ago and you told me to fuck off. End of story.”

Castiel merely stares at him.

That doesn't sound like anything he would _ever_ do. Not in this life or the next.

So what the hell …?

“I'm not mad, I'm _really_ not,” Dean assures again. He even seems a bit frenzy, as if he might fear Castiel would drop their friendship right here on the spot and throw him out of the house if he wouldn't be able to make himself as crystal clear as possible. “I totally understand why you did it. I was the one who dropped our letter exchanges back in the days, and yeah, okay, I only did it 'cause it hurt so fucking bad, but I should've at least given you some explanation or an apology or something, and that was seriously shitty of me, so you had every right to stay pissed –”

“Dean,” Castiel cuts in and Dean actually flinches so hard at that Castiel instantly feels guilty. Before giving himself a chance to think too much about it he reaches out and squeezes Dean's wrist in a soothing manner. He even rubs his thumb gently over Dean's pulse point and smiles when he feels the other man relax visibly at the tender touch.

“Dean,” he tries again, this time turning his voice extra soft. “How about you tell me everything from the beginning?”

Dean starts to look uncomfortable again. “Cas …”

“Please.”

Because Castiel needs to know.

Because what Dean is saying, it doesn't make any sense. He wrote a letter to Castiel twelve years ago? And Castiel rejected his advances?

What. The. Hell?

Castiel's memory has always been impeccable and he is pretty sure he would remember something _like that_.

There is no chance in hell he might forget.

“Okay, fine.” Dean takes a deep breath, as though he's preparing for battle. “I … it was during the time with my dad. He just had a heart attack and I was sitting in the hospital's waiting room, all alone, and … and … well, it didn't look good.”

He grimaces at the memory and Castiel instinctively tightens his grip around Dean's wrist. The desire to quickly invent time travel and go back to that day to pull Dean into a comforting embrace becomes rather strong in that moment.

“So yeah, I was sitting there,” Dean continues, his gaze lowered. “Sammy was at college and trying to get a plane ticket back home, Mom was either with Dad or running around, driving herself crazy, and I …” He shrugs like his own feelings are actually not that important. “I just wanted to talk to someone. I wanted to talk to _you_.”

Castiel feels his heart clench at the longing in Dean's tone.

“You always understood me better than anyone and …” He sighs. “I made Benny look up your address and charmed the nurses in the hospital to give me some paper and a stamp. And so I wrote to you.” Dean trembles a bit at the reminder. “It actually felt good to write it all down. Cathartic even. And so in the end I threw the letter in the mail and hoped you'd reach out back to me soon.”

Castiel is only able to stare.

He seriously had no idea.

“But you never contacted me,” Dean says. Castiel senses that he's trying for nonchalant, more than determined not to blame Castiel for any of this, but the hurt in his voice is still palpable. “And after weeks had passed … well, my dad didn't make it in the end and everything turned into an emotional mess … and then some night I sat in that bar around the corner of my apartment and I felt all kinds of sorry for myself and after a few drinks my courage grew as well as my stupidity … you see, Benny didn't just get your address, but your phone number as well … so I was buzzed and sad and I missed you like crazy … and so I called you.”

Castiel frowns.

This story is seriously taking a turn he didn't expect.

“Your wife answered,” Dean tells him and _wait, what?_

Castiel's eyes widen in astonishment and he gapes speechlessly at his friend. Of all the things he expected Dean to say, this was not one of them.

“Your wife answered,” Dean repeats, his voice unsteady. “I … I asked to speak to you and told her about the letter … and she said …” He pauses for a moment, looking like he's battling with a lot of feelings at the same time. “She said that yes, you got the letter … I mean, at the time I thought that it maybe got lost in the mail or whatever. Stuff like that happens, right?” He pulls a face. “But no, Daphne … she said that you got the letter. And that you didn't want to talk to me. That I should feel ashamed of myself for having the nerve to actually _call_ you.” He laughs once without any humor in it. Bitter and resigned. “Basically she told me to piss off and never contact you again.”

Castiel stares.

And stares.

 _WHAT_?

 **WHAT**?

“ _What_?”

Castiel has no idea how to react to that. This is very first time he ever heard of this.

Daphne …

“Like I said, it's okay,” Dean hurries to add. “You had every right not wanting to speak to me and I got over it, I'm a big boy, you know? I just …” He squirms on his seat. “Let's just forget about it, okay?”

To _hell_ with that.

“No way,” Castiel insists.

“I'm _fine_ , Cas!” Dean says with emphasis. “You had no idea about my dad, I didn't mention it in the letter – you just thought that stupid jerk from your childhood had the audacity to stop sending you letters and then try to reach out to you out of the blue more than a decade later – so you don't need to feel bad about it or guilty or anything –”

“Dean, it's not about that,” Castiel reassures him and makes extra sure not to let go of Dean's wrist even though the man halfheartedly attempts to wiggle out of his grip. “This is about the fact that I had _No. Idea_.”

Dean grimaces. “Yeah, of course, how could you? I mean, I really didn't tell you about my dad in the letter, I just –”

“Not just about your father but about _everything_ ,” Castiel clarifies. “I never got your letter.”

Dean freezes at those words.

And blinks at him in utter confusion.

“But … your wife …”

He sounds so overwhelmed all of a sudden Castiel just wants to wrap him in a blanket and keep him safe from the world for the rest of his life.

But at first they have to sort this out.

“I … I don't understand.” Dean looks helplessly at Castiel. “Why would she lie?”

That's a good question.

A _very_ good one.

“I mean, it _was_ her,” Dean states with emphasis. “She told me her name. Daphne Novak. And she knew about the letter. It _definitely_ sounded like she'd read it.”

Castiel feels even more confused than Dean.

Why would Daphne withhold his correspondence? And actually read it without telling Castiel a single word about it?

That doesn't make any sense.

Well …

Unless …

He frowns as a sudden memory hits him. Might it actually be possible …?

“All of this happened twelve years ago, you said?” Castiel wonders, his brain going into overdrive now as he tries to put a puzzle together that has been confusing him for so long now. “When exactly?”

Dean seems to notice that Castiel is on the verge of a dawning realization. “Um, summer. I sent the letter at the beginning of July.”

Castiel tilts his head in thought.

Is this _seriously_ the answer to this riddle that's been haunting him for way over a decade now?

“What did you write in that letter?” he wonders.

Dean suddenly starts to squirm and lowers his gaze, probably in a (rather failed) attempt to hide the slight blush on his cheeks. “Um, well … nothing much, to be honest. That I missed you and stuff.”

Castiel is pretty sure there is more to it, but Dean suddenly seems so uncomfortable he doesn't want to pressure him.

“Did you at any point indicate that you're an old childhood friend? And that we hadn't spoken to each for _many years_ before that letter?”

Dean blinks at him, clearly bewildered. “Uuhh … I'm not sure?”

“Did you start the letter with _“Hey, this is Dean. Remember that loud fourteen-year old that used to live next to you five billion years ago?”_ Something like that?”

Dean wrinkles his forehead. “No, I don't think so.”

“So if someone from the outside, without any knowledge of our history, would have read that letter, they wouldn't have automatically assumed we're just childhood friends who hadn't seen each other for a long while?”

Dean squints his eyes and studies him warily. “Well, I guess … What are you saying, Cas?”

Castiel sighs deeply.

He doesn't actually think this might be true, but the timing … and Daphne being so dismissive toward Dean …

It makes a horrible kind of sense.

“Twelve years ago Daphne and I were getting divorced,” Castiel explained. “We actually already had decided on it around May, but Daphne still lived with us for a few months until everything was sorted out. Her job, a new apartment, the finances, etc. Our breakup was very amicable and we decided to stay the good friends we had been before. The decision to actually go through with the divorce even improved our relationship quite immensely, to be honest.”

Dean nods along as Castiel had already told him about that before.

“Yes, for the most part everything went on quite peacefully,” Castiel continues. “Apart for a few weeks when Daphne suddenly out of the blue accused me on having cheated on her while we still had been married.”

Dean's eyes widen at that new information. It's clear he didn't expect to hear something like this anytime soon. “Really?”

Castiel grimaces at the memory. At the fights and the hurt in Daphne's expression. And at Castiel's insistent denial of her accusations.

“I was quite baffled,” Castiel admits. “I have _never_ been unfaithful. I wouldn't even dare to think about it.”

Dean looks like he wouldn't believe anything else, like the mere idea of Castiel even entertaining such a thought is absolutely absurd, and Castiel feels something warm pressing within his chest at the utter trust on Dean's features. He wishes more than anything that Daphne had felt the same thing back then.

“I had no clue where she had even gotten the idea to begin with,” Castiel explains. “But I soon suspected her family having something to do with it. They've always been controlling and on the wrong side of religious. Getting Daphne back under their thumb after I had the audacity to encourage her to think for herself during our marriage surely might have been tempting for them. So telling lies about me and accusing me of ugly crimes – yes, that seemed like their style.”

Dean leans forward. “But?”

“I'm still absolutely convinced they had something to do with this,” Castiel states with emphasis. “But maybe something had to trigger this whole thing first. Because while screaming at me Daphne mentioned a letter once or twice –”

Dean gapes at him, for a moment completely shell-shocked. “Wait, you're saying –?”

Castiel doesn't want to believe it.

He really, _really_ doesn't.

Daphne is his friend and even though those dark few weeks in which Castiel couldn't help feeling like a criminal faced with such accusations (no matter the fact that he absolutely knew he was innocent) definitely put a little crack in their overall relationship Castiel still considers her an important part of his life.

To think that she actually might be responsible …

Castiel looks at Dean, at his stunning green eyes gazing back at him with so many questions shining in them, and he finds himself taking his phone and dialing Daphne's number out of pure instinct.

He wants to sort this out, _now_.

Even though he's undoubtedly certain he won't like the answer at all.

Daphne picks up after the fourth ring.

Her face pops up on the phone's screen, her smile wide and teasing as she looks at her ex-husband.

“Oh wow, Castiel, a video call?” she says instead of a proper greeting. “Did you finally arrive in the 21st century? I'm so proud.”

For a moment Castiel doesn't know what to say. He doesn't want to believe his suspicions to be true, he doesn't even want to consider Daphne being the reason it took over twenty years to get back into contact with Dean.

But the evidence points into another direction and Castiel seriously hates that.

“Do you remember the time you accused me to have been cheating on you?” he asks bluntly, without any preamble whatsoever.

Daphne's smile immediately drops at his icy tone. “What?”

“Do you remember?”

“Castiel …”

“Do you _remember_?” Castiel urges, not in the mood for any excuses.

For a moment everything stay silent as Daphne is way too busy staring at him and figuring out what the hell is even going on. And Castiel certainly can't blame her, he didn't mention those occurrences even once in all those years, far too relieved to have it over with to dig it up yet again. So eventually bringing it back to life after over a decade, completely out of the blue, surely isn't something Daphne expected when she accepted his call.

So in the end she merely replies with a puzzled frown. “Why are you bringing that up all of a sudden? I thought we left that behind us –”

Castiel's gaze flicks toward Dean across from him and his anger fuels even more.

All the time they had missed …

“No, we left _nothing_ behind us!” Castiel objects. “I was confused the entire time because I had no idea where your accusations had even been coming from and when you eventually decided to let it drop and 'leave it behind' I was way too happy to see the fighting stop again to question it.”

Daphne gapes at him, clearly not understanding what is even happening right now.

“It was a letter, wasn't it?” Castiel presses through his clenched teeth. “ _Dean's_ letter.”

“Castiel –”

“You read it, didn't you?” He can see it in her eyes. The utter lack of puzzlement at the mention of Dean's name. “You read it and you didn't tell me anything about it and instead decided to make up your own mind –”

Daphne scoffs. “There was nothing to 'make up in my mind'”, she insists. “That thing was as good as a fucking love letter, sent to _my husband_. What the hell should I think about that?”

Castiel notices Dean goes back to fidgeting awkwardly in his seat, his gaze downcast again. It's obvious he doesn't appreciate Daphne's choice of words here.

“Why is that even important right now?” Daphne asks with a sigh. “I forgave you. I mean, I actually couldn't really blame you. It's not like there was all that much romance and passion in our marriage to begin with, so –”

“So it would've been okay for me to cheat?” Castiel asks incredulously.

“I'm just saying we're all human,” Daphne states. “We all make mistakes.”

“I certainly agree.”

Castiel shoots a glance at Dean, not sure how to feel in this very moment. How _Dean_ feels in this very moment.

They had a chance back then. And it slipped right through their fingers.

For a minute Dean meets his gaze, his eyes vibrant and so full of emotions Castiel would have needed a lifetime to decipher them all. And then suddenly he seems to make a decision as he suddenly leaps to his feet, walks toward Castiel and positions himself right beside him, in the perfect angle for the phone's camera to catch sight of him as well.

“Hey,” he greets Daphne almost casually.

Like it's a totally normal day.

Daphne's eyes, of course, grow as big as saucers while her jaw goes slack at the sight of the new arrival.

It's almost hilarious if the situation wouldn't have been so dark.

“Hey, I'm the Dean in question,” Dean introduces himself in a surprisingly authentic sounding chipper tone. “We two spoke on the phone, about twelve years ago. You told me to piss off.”

Daphne gasps for air.

While her eyes seem on the brink of popping out of their sockets.

“I … I …”

Castiel wonders if she'll might faint in the next second. Or even get an aneurysm.

She sure as hell looks like her body is close to shutting down, right there on the spot.

Dean, meanwhile, only smiles, as though he's got no care in the world. “It's nice to finally properly meet you,” he says and he actually sounds so genuine about it Castiel can't help asking himself if it's actually the truth, despite the circumstances. “Even though the situation is not ideal, of course –”

Daphne gulps.

And gasps for breath.

“I … you …”

Castiel can't recall ever hearing her voice so shaky before and for a moment he feels quite guilty for jumping her in such a way, without giving her any kind of warning. This didn't go very well with Claire before and Daphne probably won't be any different. At least Castiel is quite sure he's gonna get an earful for that at some point.

But right now _he_ is the angry one here.

“I … _we_ spoke on the phone?” Daphne sounds so incredulous, like the mere idea of even breathing the same air as Dean is completely mind-boggling.

“Yeah, I sent a letter to my old friend Cas here, you see,” Dean explains, throwing his arm over Castiel's shoulder and pushing them close for a quick hug. “And when I didn't get an answer I decided to call him – and well, _you_ answered.”

Daphne's eyes grow even larger as her memory slowly begins to come back to her.

“Oh my God,” she whispers to herself, clearly on the verge of utter shock.

Even Dean winces now, obviously feeling bad for sending her into such a spiral of emotions. He seems to consider to say something soothing to her, something to ease her mind, but as he begins to remember that this tactic didn't work so well on Claire either earlier he instantly turns to Castiel instead.

“Should I leave?” he says lowly. “Before she … um …”

“Before she gets an heart attack?” Castiel helps him out. “Yes, maybe that would be for the best.”

Castiel doesn't want him to go, not at all, but at the same time he seriously needs some time to speak with Daphne. Alone.

Dean nods, obviously knowing perfectly well what Castiel is saying here without actually voicing it out loud. He retreats with a polite, “It was nice meeting you, Daphne” before walking away in the direction of Castiel's study.

Castiel watches after him for a moment, really hoping that he's okay, the desire to run after him and hug him so strong for a few seconds he's actually on the verge of just ending his phone call with Daphne without even saying goodbye to concentrate what is most important here. And that is Dean's well-being.

After all, whatever Daphne has to say for herself, Castiel can't imagine it'll make it better.

But then again he has to give her at least a chance to defend herself.

“I don't even know what to say,” Daphne whispers after what feels like an eternity, her skin white as a sheet and her expression clearly saying that she isn't completely sure if this isn't just a very wild dream. “That's … _Dean Winchester_ …”

Castiel huffs. “Yes, he is.”

“I – I told _Dean Winchester_ to piss off,” she breathes, clearly still not believing it. “I … _oh God_ …”

“It doesn't matter that it was _Dean Winchester_ ,” Castiel emphasizes, his glare turning harder. “He was _my friend_ , Daphne. Someone I had missed terribly for many years. I even told you about him a few times, remember?”

There still had been an ache in his chest every time he thought about Dean, but over the years he nonetheless couldn't help himself to rely a couple of stories involving him. Daphne was his wife, after all, and at least at some point in their marriage he wanted to share everything with her.

“He used to be my best friend,” Castiel says, his voice getting a little croaky as all those emotions are pushing to the surface. “But instead of getting finally back in contact again _you_ took that chance away from us.”

The realization is painful. Very painful.

Despite their history he always thought he could trust Daphne. Would have her on his side, no matter what.

It hurts to be proven wrong.

“And we didn't cheat with each other on you, by the way,” he has to clarify, as he's not sure whether Daphne is able to create coherent thoughts right now. “As I hope you already guessed. When that letter arrived we hadn't seen one another for _so_ many years.”

And in the end it became so many more. Only because he never received that letter.

“Castiel …” Daphne's eyes are getting watery now and Castiel hates how he feels his anger slowly deflating at that sight. He _wants_ to be furious with her, wants to yell and scream and blame her for everything. But, once again, his stupidly nice heart gets in the way of that.

“Why didn't you trust me?” Castiel breathes. “I thought we were a team, Daphne. Even when we got divorced … I was under the impression we had each other's backs.”

“We did,” Daphne assures, a single tear running down her cheek now. “We _do_.”

“Then _why_ –?”

“I don't know.” Daphne shakes her head, looking so devastated Castiel, despite all the anger blooming inside of him, can feel his heart breaking. “I just … I found the letter with all the other mail. And I didn't think much of it … I dunno, maybe I believed it to be another bill or whatever … I can't even remember anymore – I just opened it …” She presses her lips into a thin line. “And the things that were written in there, I just … I didn't know what to do with that. Those words, for _my husband_ – I couldn't believe –”

Castiel simply stares at her and for a moment seriously wonders what Dean had written in that letter. He had gotten pretty nervous when Castiel asked him about it earlier and perhaps there's a good reason for that.

He recalls the situation – Dean's dad _dying_ just a few rooms over while Dean was sitting all alone in the waiting room – and it seems understandable that this letter turned out a bit more emotional than perhaps even Dean had originally intended.

“I didn't know what to make of all of that,” Daphne continues, her gaze lowered. “And I … I went to my cousin for advice. I mean, I knew her ex-husband had cheated on her a few years before that and I just – I just needed someone with her expertise to tell me I was imagining things. That my head just went to a really weird place and that everything is okay.” She takes a deep breath. “I told her in confidence, but she went to Ketch anyway –”

Castiel's scowl deepens at that name.

Ketch.

A friend of Daphne's family. Someone who always loved to make Daphne feel inferior. Let her doubt herself over and over.

For a long while Daphne remained too sweet and too blind to realize that. She thought him a kind man, someone she could trust. It took lots of therapy sessions for her to finally come to terms with the fact that this man – next to her entire family – has never been good for her.

“You know how he is,” Daphne continues, grinding her teeth now at the memory of that man. “He put those images in my head – of you going behind my back, of you looking for love and passion elsewhere because I was never good enough to give it to you –”

Castiel feels his chest clench uncomfortably. “Daphne …”

“I was stupid and naive and I believed him,” she tells him, clearly with a heavy heart. “And I felt betrayed and hurt, but I also knew I deserved it –”

“You wouldn't have deserved something like this!” Castiel cuts in, more than ready to chase that accusation out of the room, to never return. “ _Never_.”

Daphne offers him a weak smile.

“Yeah, well … back then I seriously believed that,” she points out. “And it made me lash out and keep that letter for myself.”

Castiel takes a deep breath.

He knows that it's been a hard time for her all those years ago. Her mental health issues, her anxiety, only fueled by her alleged failure as a mother and wife – it took a serious toll on her. It was easy for guys like Ketch to get into her head and make her doubt everything she ever believed.

And till this day Castiel is still immensely proud that she eventually got the help she needed and overcame her fears. Naturally those issues still flare up once in a while because at the end of the day it's a lifelong struggle she will have to live with, but yet she came so far in the last couple of years. Just a decade ago the thought of being a single woman pursuing a promising career and leaving social expectations behind her would have been absolutely unthinkable for her. And now it's her reality.

Yes, Castiel is proud.

But Daphne's fight with herself obviously cost him his chance with Dean.

And that's heartbreaking.

“I … I can't tell you how sorry I am,” Daphne whispers, her voice getting unsteady again. “I just … at first I was angry and confused and then eventually I decided to let it all go. After all, our relationship has never been that great of a romance anyway, how could I have blamed you for seeking love somewhere else?”

“Daphne …”

“There's no excuse for my behavior,” she insists. “I can't even remember why I didn't give you that letter in the end. I guess … maybe I banned it from my memory or something. Because on one hand it seemed like hard proof that you cheated on me, but on the other hand I _still_ trusted you. And … I think in the end it was just too much and I just wanted to leave it all behind me.”

Castiel sighs. “Daphne –”

“I thought he was your lover, okay?” she says. “I thought you would reach out to him anyway as soon as the divorce and everything would've been through. And I just … I just didn't have the strength to deal with any of it. So I threw it as far away from me as possible in the end.”

From her perspective that's actually understandable. Castiel also wouldn't have been thrilled with meddling in the affairs of his spouse and their lover. To take a step back and tell yourself, “Not my problem anymore!” seems like a logical choice in such a situation.

“I was an idiot,” Daphne states, burying her face in her palms. “I should've just given you that letter.”

Castiel can't deny that either.

“I think … I think I even might still have it,” she mumbles, her forehead in wrinkles as she dives deep in thought. “I put it somewhere to my stuff, if I remember correctly. Ketch, that bastard, convinced me to keep it as evidence for the lawyers or whatever and later on … I can't recall ever throwing it out. It still might be in there.”

Twelve years too late.

“Daphne –”

“I just – I don't want you to hate me,” she whispers with a broken voice. “I couldn't bear it – just tell me what to do to make it better somehow, I'll do _anything_ –”

“Daphne –”

“Just please don't hate me –”

Castiel closes his eyes for a minute and takes a deep breath.

“I don't hate you,” he makes himself clear. “I could _never_.”

Daphne looks at him skeptically.

“I _don't_ ,” Castiel urges. “Yes, I'm upset. I'm _pissed off_ , to be perfectly clear. And I will remain pissed off for quite a while, I can tell you as much. With you, with Ketch, with this entire _fucking_ situation. And I have every right for that.”

Daphne nods hastily, obviously eager to agree to that.

“Because this hurts, alright?” Castiel states. “You not trusting me. You thinking I would be capable of deceiving you like that. Like the years since we've been together didn't matter anymore.”

Daphne bites her bottom lip, but refrains from interrupting him.

“But I could never hate you, okay?” He sighs. “You're my friend and the mother of my children.”

Daphne looks at him for a long while, several different emotions flickering over her features in record speed. There is guilt and despair, but also gratitude and affection.

And despite everything Castiel can't help thinking that she came a long way. And he's proud of that.

But then his mind wanders to Dean, sitting somewhere in the house waiting for Castiel to catch up to him, and his chest clenches painfully as he considers the chance they had missed.

 _Twelve years_.

They could have been in each other's lives for over a decade now.

And it's only been due to circumstances out of Castiel's control that everything went downhill back then.

Castiel sighs as he, once again, finds himself so freaking grateful for that interview. For the host of the show, for that fan who sent in that question about childhood crushes in the first place. It's like fate tried to make up for its mistake and get Dean and Castiel back again.

It's at least a little comfort. Castiel can't even fathom a world where none of that would've happened and he would have _never_ talked with Dean ever again. It hurts too much to even consider.

“I'm so sorry,” Daphne whispers again, jolting Castiel out of his thoughts with her shaky tone. “I never meant to hurt you.”

Castiel offers her a small smile. “I know, Daphne.”

“And I never meant to hurt Dean either,” she adds. “I just … I had no idea.”

How could she have?

Castiel can't really blame her for not knowing the big picture in this situation.

For a long moment they stay silent again, just giving themselves some time to let it all sink in. The magnitude of everything.

And it seems like half an eternity when Daphne eventually picks up her voice again. “So …”

Castiel blinks. “So what?”

Daphne raises an eyebrow.

“I guess that means you're the _Mystery Crush_ , huh?”

Castiel only groans.


	19. Fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my friends, yet another Tuesday has arrived!
> 
> I hope you're all well and ready for a bunch of emotions coming your way again!
> 
> Enjoy :D
> 
> -

Dean has no idea how long he's already sitting in Cas' study.

It's a nice room and as soon as Cas showed it to him shortly after his arrival Dean just knew that he would have no problem finding peace and quiet in here. It's not the largest room in the world – with the pullout couch, Cas' work desk and a bunch of shelves it's already pretty filled up –, but the window front is big and leads right into the backyard, letting a lot of natural light inside, and it makes the room appear not as cramped.

On the contrary, it seems open and bright and so much _Cas_ that Dean couldn't help grinning like a little kid when he learned he would sleep here for the next few days.

So that's why in the end he decided to retreat in here to give Cas the much needed space to work things out with Daphne. The room offers some comfort, some sense of security, while he still finds himself feeling quite rattled by everything that went down.

For such a long time he thought Cas didn't want to have anything to do with him anymore. And Dean had understood considering it'd been a real dick move to just drop off the face of the earth. He couldn't blame the guy for not being all too keen on taking yet another risk with the brash and irresponsible idiot who might very well break his heart a second time around.

After all, when Dean tried to reach out to him he believed Cas to have a happy and simple life – a wife he intended to get old with and a bunch of little rugrats giving him gray hair –, so why would a man like him have any time for an old childhood friend anyway?

Yeah, Dean had no problem understanding that reasoning. Even though it hurt pretty bad.

But now?

To know that everything went down due to a wild miscommunication? Because Dean had the worst timing ever and stir up a freaking _divorce_ with so many emotions laying bare? Granted, Cas always told him everything progressed rather smoothly and amicably, but Dean noticed the small flicker of pain in his eyes every time he said those words. And that's probably not only because of those few weeks where Daphne accused him of cheating. No, for things to get at this point feelings must already have been frayed.

And that's surely not a surprise. To take a step like that, to make a decision to go separate ways from now on, must have been hard nonetheless. It's impossible to see that as any other day in their lives.

To have your emotions raw and then receive such a letter which had been way too intense to begin with, it's no wonder that something tipped over.

However, it hurts to think that it took him and Cas almost twelve years to get another chance. That something as easy as reaching out to each other again could become such an almost insurmountable task.

And now Dean can't help wondering what would've happened if he'd been a little more persistent. If he would've called again and not let go until he would've talked with Cas in person. Or if he would've sent another letter and explained his situation better. Hell, even a simple _“I'm sorry for everything”_ note as some sort of closure would've been enough.

But he did none of that. And now he regrets it more than ever before.

While on the other hand he finds himself considering whether it might have been fate all along. A thought that had crossed his mind more often now for the last few weeks –

“Dean?”

Dean raises his head and looks at Cas standing at the door with an uncertain expression, obviously asking himself if it would be okay to enter. Dean wonders how his face must look like right now that his friend even decided to hesitate to begin with, so he quickly forces a smile onto his lips and waves Cas inside.

“Um, Daphne,” Cas says, “she is still on the phone. And she would like to talk to you, if that's alright.”

He points into the direction of the kitchen. Probably right where he left his phone to ask Dean in private.

“It's okay if you don't want to,” Castiel adds hastily. “She'll understand. _I_ will understand. After all, this is quite the mess and –”

“It's fine,” Dean hears himself answering. “Let me talk to her.”

Cas looks at him for second as though he's not sure if he should feel relieved or guilty about that before he turns on his heels again to retrieve his phone. Dean stares after him, not so certain himself what to make of the whole thing, but still unable to deny them and just let it all slip away without talking it out first.

It doesn't take long for Cas to reappear and place his phone in Dean's hand.

And it's Daphne's face on the screen that greets him once more.

“Hey,” she says. She even manages to actually sound casual about it. It's more than obvious in truth she's far from it – you only just have to look into her eyes –, but Dean surely has to congratulate her acting skills. He'd definitely have no second doubts introducing her to some agents if she'd ever feel the desire to pursue such a career.

“Hey, Daphne,” he replies in kind, hoping that he doesn't appear as tense as he feels. A big part of himself really doesn't want to talk with her since the memory of that phone call from twelve years ago is still quite vivid in his mind, all the hurt and disappointment palpable still, but he just knows he won't get around it if he'd like to have a good relationship with Cas. Despite everything her actions have caused she is the mother of Cas' children and nothing will ever change that.

“Okay, I don't even know where to start.” Daphne appears all kinds of uncomfortable and seems to actually have to force herself to not avoid his gaze. “I mean … a simple apology won't even cut it.”

Dean offers her a weak smile. “It's alright …”

“That's very nice of you to say, but it's not,” she objects. “What I did to you was absolutely shitty and there is no excuse for it.”

Dean presses his lips into a thin line. Some part of himself wholeheartedly agrees with that statement, while another one feels bad for her beating herself up like this.

“It's been such a long time now …” he says instead, hoping that would be an acceptable middle ground.

And naturally it's the truth. In all those years he managed to make some kind of fragile peace with the entire situation, thinking that Cas wouldn't want to have anything to do with him again and finding himself begrudgingly respecting that. Of course it's been hard and painful, but he got over it somehow, the ache in his chest still there, but bearable.

At least he surely has no strength left to get agitated about this after all this time.

For him this actually had been a closed chapter until twenty minutes ago.

“I still wanted to apologize,” Daphne whispers. “I shouldn't have been so rude to you on the phone back then. I mean, yeah, it was very late and you were obviously drunk, but still –”

Dean winces at the reminder. Thinking back on it it's actually a miracle she didn't just hang up on him after two seconds. It was around 10 PM and he had been sitting in that dirty bar for way over an hour, a not minor amount of drinks already running through his entire system. At one point his brain got so fuzzy he didn't even care what a tremendously bad idea it was to try calling Cas.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Dean says, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully. “You're actually a saint for listening to my babbling in the first place.”

“After I realized who you were I just wanted to hear you out,” Daphne explains. “I … I don't know what I expected, to be honest. But my husband's alleged lover being so bold to ask for Castiel and act like it's the most normal thing in the world surely wasn't one of them.”

Dean huffs.

From her point of view that definitely sounds awful.

“Considering all that you actually acted very polite,” Dean has to confess. At least she neither yelled at him nor called him any ugly names.

Daphne grimaces. “I can't even really remember what I said to you, I have to admit. I was just so _stunned_ to have you on the phone, without any warning whatsoever – I think my brain just stopped working.” She shakes her head. “I mean, I vaguely recall lying to you and telling you that Castiel actually got your letter and didn't want to have anything to do with you – which is just unacceptable. I shouldn't have said that, even though I was under some kind of shock. It's the crappiest thing I ever did in my life and there is no excuse for that.”

Dean takes a deep breath. He just wants to tell her, “It's fine”, but he can't bring himself to do so.

Because it's not. It's not fine.

And she seems to know that even better than him.

“I am _profoundly_ sorry that I kept Castiel away from you,” Daphne says, her voice getting unsteady again. “And I'm not asking for forgiveness because such behavior certainly doesn't deserve such kindness. I just wanted you to know that I deeply regret what happened back then.”

Dean finds himself smiling. “I really appreciate that.”

And it's true. It doesn't make the situation any better, of course, because at the end of the day he lost twelve years with Cas, but it's a little soothing to learn that there is no villain to this story. Only people and very human mistakes.

And that's life, isn't it?

Sometimes it's great and amazing and wonderful, and other times it's cruel and unfair and leaves people in pain.

“And, um, sorry for jumping you like that and hijacking your talk with Cas earlier,” Dean adds after a few heady moments of silence. “I guess you didn't really expect me of all people to show up on your phone's screen, huh?”

He had no intention of making his presence known, but when Cas and Daphne started arguing right in front of him he just couldn't hold still anymore. In the back of his mind he knew that wasn't the wisest idea – after all, letting as few people as possible know about his personal life is what allowed him to stay anonymous all these years –, but the thought of doing nothing seemed even worse than that. As soon as he heard her voice and remembered their brief conversation twelve years ago, her words so heavy they haunted him for such a long time afterwards, his legs spurred into action before his head even had an opportunity to catch up on that.

“Yeah, I've gotta admit I wasn't prepared to meet _Dean Winchester_ anytime soon,” Daphne concedes with a nervous chuckle. “Although, after mulling it over in my head for a moment, I realized I actually should've seen it coming.”

Dean frowns. “Really?”

Daphne shrugs. “I mean, when I watched that interview and you were describing that boy from next door I couldn't help thinking, _'Boy, that sounds exactly like my dingus of ex-husband_!”

Dean barks a laugh as he notices Cas pouting hard in the background at those words.

“And then a few weeks ago Claire told me her father reconnected with an old friend named Dean,” Daphne continues. “Obviously someone he hadn't seen for a very long time. And I recalled Castiel telling me stories about you, his former neighbor and best friend, in the past. Little stories about your daily shenanigans.” She smiles a little wistfully. “And having the complete picture now it's pretty obvious you were both talking about each other. It makes sense.”

Dean exchanges a quick glance with Cas and feels something fluttering in his stomach.

“And of course you don't have to worry, your secret will be safe with me,” Daphne promises, sounding so sincere that Dean can't do anything else but trust her. “I mean, I already ruined enough as it is, right?”

Dean pulls a face. “Daphne –”

“I already stole twelve years from both of you,” she points out. “What kind of person would I be for being so careless to spill the beans and make everyone go crazy? It'd surely disrupt everything.”

It's certainly not wrong. Being here, with Cas and his kids, feels like a little domestic bubble of normalcy and if Hollywood and its entire entourage would even get a little whiff of it everything might collapse.

“Not to mention the fact that you're with _my children_ ,” Daphne states. “I couldn't stand for any paparazzi in their front yard.”

This is clearly the protective side Cas mentioned before. How she'd do anything to see her kids safe and unharmed. And yelling about Dean being in their company, even little hints, into the whole wide void of the internet or wherever definitely would be the opposite of that.

“I understand,” he says. “And be assured that I do everything myself to keep them out of the spotlight. You have my word.”

Daphne looks at him intently for a while before she eventually ends up nodding. There is still a flicker of worry in her features – because at the end of the day she's a mother and that's what mothers do –, but it appears she is confident enough in Dean's ability to stay down low and not draw any unwanted attention to himself.

And Dean surely doesn't want to disappoint either her or Cas in that regard.

He'll make sure of that.

  
  


\---

  
  


It's only a few minutes later that they bid their goodbyes.

Daphne throws at least another two hundred apologies into their conversation, apparently so highly regretful about the whole disaster that Dean can't even produce much energy to be mad at her. It's even relatable in a way – if he would've been married to Cas and found himself with such a letter in his hands he would've freaked out, too, divorce in progress or not. You can't really blame someone for being insecure in such times.

It still sucks, though, that Dean ended up hurt and Daphne rattled, believing her husband had cheated on her, while Cas remained clueless all these years.

And it'll suck for quite a while, Dean's sure of that.

But at the same time it's in the past and he's not in the mood to become overly emotional about this when he's finally back together with Cas. This is a time to be happy and celebrate, not to dwell on things from way back and wonder what if.

Nothing good will come out of it.

When Dean eventually turns off the phone he heaves a deep sigh and leans back on the couch, feeling like a deep weight has simultaneously placed on his chest and lifted off it. It's a very weird sensation and he has no real clue how to interpret that.

Cas looks like he's not much better off as he drops onto the sofa right next to him, their thighs brushing each other as he has apparently no intention to leave much space between them.

For a long moment they stay like this, quiet and buried deep in their own thoughts. Just existing beside each other, giving one another comfort while dealing with their own personal turmoils within.

“What a mess, huh?” Cas raises his voice eventually, sounding tired and defeated.

And Dean certainly agrees with that statement. “It really is.”

When he imagined his weekend stay at Cas' he definitely didn't expect that kind of drama. He figured the hardest task he had to handle was bonding with Claire and Jack. And now he's sitting here, mending a decade old wound.

Quite a trip, that's for sure.

“But, you know, it got me thinking,” Dean finally admits. “And maybe it's better this way.”

Cas frowns at him. “What do you mean?”

“Just think about it for a second,” Dean prods him. “The timing would've been awful. Perhaps Daphne even did us a favor, in some twisted way.”

Cas tilts his head in that characteristic way of his and assesses him carefully. “What are you saying?”

“Just a few months after my dad's death my career skyrocketed,” Dean reminds him. “In the blink of an eye I was suddenly so in demand I had no idea what to do with it. My life basically changed over night and the following years turned into such a wild ride I can't even begin to describe it to you. I was working nonstop, way too much, and I barely had time for anything else.”

Cas furrows his brows, obviously mulling this over thoroughly in his mind.

“And _you_ ,” Dean continues. “You just got divorced, had a brand new job and, most importantly, became a single father. That must've been quite a lot as well.”

Cas scoffs at the clear understatement.

“I mean, Jack just turned one year old, didn't he?” Dean asks. “I can't even imagine what your life looked like back then.”

“It was a riot,” Cas confirms. “Working, taking care of the kids, managing the household, then going back to work, the kids, the household – for the first few years I'm not certain I even slept. At least I can barely remember it.”

Dean isn't surprised. Suddenly being solely responsible for two small lives sounds like one hell of a job. Not to mention the fact that Cas is a freaking perfectionist and generally works twice as hard as everyone else.

“I'm just saying, our lives were quite a lot back then, right?” Dean shrugs. “And now imagine you would've gotten my letter and we would've gotten back in contact again during that time. I can only speak for myself, of course, but for me it would've been very challenging to maintain such a relationship. At least not in the rate we're having now. I wouldn't have had the time or even the head to text you every single day and send you stupid pics or whatever.”

Cas scoots a little closer. “You have a point,” he concedes. “During those first years my main focus were my children and keeping a roof over our heads. Everything else had to make do with the back row. And that probably would've included even you.”

Dean nods. Naturally he has no idea how it would've played out in the end, but he certainly wouldn't have had the time for Cas he allows himself now. He spends sometimes hours just chatting with the guy about nothing important and that would've been utterly unthinkable at the beginning of his career. Back when he expected way too much of himself and thought he had to work harder and more than everyone around him.

“Perhaps we would've still found a way,” Dean admits. “Maybe we wouldn't have talked daily with each other like now, but possibly weekly. Monthly. Or perhaps we would've lost contact again along the way because life is a bitch sometimes, and neither of us would've had the strength and courage to get back in touch with each other yet another time.”

Dean at least isn't sure if he would've had the balls to do it all over again.

And that would've been the greatest tragedy of all. To find one another only to lose their connection once more.

“We're much more settled now,” Dean says. “I'm much more relaxed about my job and allowing myself generous breaks. And I guess your life is easier as well with your kids being more independent and mature than either of us, right?”

Cas can't help a laugh at that. “You're certainly not wrong.”

Dean shrugs. “I'm just saying, maybe it was fate or something. Nowadays we actually have the time and mental capacity to maintain a friendship like this. But twelve years ago – damn, I've got no clue if I would've been up for it.”

Cas inclines his head. “You may be right. Of course that doesn't mean I'm not still quite upset about what happened –”

“Yeah, trust me, I'm pissed about that, too.”

“– but the thought is a nice one. It makes the entire situation at least a little more bearable.”

That's the best they can ask for right now: to make everything a bit more bearable.

“Although naturally I'm still quite devastated I couldn't help you during everything you went through with your father,” Cas adds, obviously with a heavy heart. “That you really thought I had rejected you for all these years.”

Dean pulls a face. That time definitely hadn't been fun, that's for sure.

“Don't worry, Cas,” he says nonetheless because he doesn't want his friend to feel guilty for something he had no control over. “It's not like I was alone. I still had my family.”

Cas suddenly turns around to look at him straight, his gaze getting more piercing than probably ever before. “And for the record, I wouldn't have rejected you.”

Dean can't help a slight blush at the intensity of everything _Cas_.

“I would've been _overjoyed_ to receive that letter from you,” Cas clarifies. “I had missed you a great deal.”

Dean's chest starts to constrict uncomfortably.

“I'm sorry,” he finds himself whispering. “For breaking off our contact back in the days, I mean.”

Cas stares at him for a moment, studying him like a frigging x-ray.

“I always assumed your letters stopped coming because life happens like that,” Cas says after a while of silence. “The last years of high school, new people, new town. I had no doubt in my mind that you slowly began to forget about me.” He squints his eyes. “But you didn't, did you? You deliberately stopped our correspondence.”

Dean ducks his head in shame.

In the last few months they never really talked about this subject before, only grazed it in passing once or twice, and he had been more than happy to let it lie there, undisturbed. Sure, back in his mind he knew that it would come up at some point, but for the time being he felt confident enough to avoid it at all costs.

“It hurt, _a lot_ ,” he finally admits. “Getting letter after letter from you and not being sure if I'd ever see you again.”

He takes a deep breath.

“Nowadays it's so easy, you know?” He shakes his head in frustration. “Social media, the internet. You're still have so many possibilities to stay connected with someone, even on the other side of the freaking planet. I mean, look at us now.” He huffs. “This is the first time we're actually in the same room since over twenty years and it still feels like we're in each other's lives for the last two months now. Like this isn't such a big moment, but me just popping by. Like we're still neighbors and all.”

He finds himself smiling wistfully. If everything would've been so simple when they were teenagers.

“But back then … well, moving away and not seeing you every day, it felt like the end of the line,” Dean states. “Like that chapter was over and those letters and occasional phone calls just a couple of afterthoughts before everything would come to a full stop. And at one point I couldn't take it anymore.”

Cas' expression softens at his words and he reaches out to squeeze Dean's wrist gently, the comforting touch sending a shiver down his spine.

“It was still a crappy thing to do,” Dean says. “I should've given you a proper explanation or at least a goodbye. Instead I just ghosted you and when I eventually started to regret that I thought it was too late to remedy my mistake.”

Until that day in the hospital. Back when he figured he had nothing left to lose.

And then it backfired spectacularly and Dean never tried again.

“Oh Dean …” Cas' grip tightens and he looks like he's seriously debating pulling Dean into a tight embrace. Dean surely wouldn't have minded.

“Look at us,” he sighs. “Our story is pretty tragic, if you think about it.”

Cas instantly shakes his head. “It's not tragic,” he objects. “It's not very conventional, I admit, and it might have some sad passages, but overall it's a tale of great friendship. And childhood crushes.”

Dean feels himself getting flustered again. “Yeah, right.”

“I'm just saying, it's awesome material for your next Hollywood blockbuster,” Cas adds with a twinkle in his eyes.

Dean chuckles at that.

He's definitely not wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *takes a deep breath*
> 
> So, I know the last few chapters were a bit more serious, but this was an important chapter for them to get through. 
> 
> And don't worry, next week we're back on our fluffy and domestic schedule again :) Among other things you can look forward to some Dean & Claire bonding time!
> 
> Until next time then.


	20. Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, my friends!
> 
> At first an important announcement (which some of you already might've read on tumblr):
> 
> Due to the fact that my next few weeks will be rather busy (lots of extra shift because a bunch of my coworkers had the absolute audacity to take their vacation, big projects at work, RL stuff, etc.) I decided to allow this story a little summer break 😁
> 
> So this fic will indulge in a four-week holiday and return, all fresh and shiny, on **Tuesday, July 28th**!
> 
> For a while I considered just going through with it – after all, the next few chapters are very well progressed –, but there is still the wrapping up and all the editing and I think in the end that would've only stressed me out. And I want this story to remain my joy and delight rather than a chore I just have to endure >.<
> 
> So yes, hence the holiday!
> 
> Then I'm wishing you all the fun for this last chapter!!
> 
> -

Castiel didn't set his alarm clock, but as every morning he finds himself awake at 6:30 AM, his body ready for action. His muscles ache for some walking and running and they don't care at all that a) it's the weekend, and b) Castiel has a guest in the house.

Castiel sighs at first, more than determined to ignore any calls within himself. But the longer he just stays in bed and forces himself not to move, the more he realizes that this won't end well.

He's still pent-up from everything that happened the day before – Dean arriving, Claire almost ripping her father a new one for keeping quiet for so very long, grocery shopping, cooking, and then Daphne and that damned letter – and Castiel just knows that he needs to release at least some of that energy if he wants to function properly today.

So he rolls out of bed, jumps into his running clothes and heads for the kitchen first out of pure instinct.

And is instantly met with Claire sitting at the table and nursing some tea.

Castiel pauses in the doorway as he suddenly registers that he's the first time alone with her since shortly after Dean's arrival. Back when she's been agitated and emotional and at one point called him the “worst father in human history”, if he remembers correctly …

And even though she seemed quite mellowed around them during dinner last night, that seriously doesn't mean that she still doesn't hold a grudge against him.

Claire, meanwhile, meets his gaze and keeps silent and motionless for a long moment. Like she's waiting to see what her father will do next.

But when Castiel remains frozen on the spot she eventually rolls her eyes at him. Hard.

“Oh my God, you can come inside,” she sighs. “I won't rip your head off.”

Castiel still can't help hesitating nonetheless. “Are you sure about that?”

Claire scoffs. “I mean, I'm still mad at you for not saying something sooner,” she points out. “And your timing really blew in the end. But I can understand why you wanted to keep him to yourself for a while.”

Castiel nods, still not certain whether he should trust the peace, but giving it a shot anyway as he finally steps into the kitchen. He instantly heads for the coffeemaker, as always bringing the machine alive before going for a run so he'd have a nice cup when he returns, but then he pauses once more as he remembers his guest.

Should he make something for Dean as well? He once told Castiel that he's usually an early riser, but that doesn't necessarily mean he's up and about at 6:30 AM on a free day. Perhaps he will stay asleep for another hour or two (or more) and by then the coffee will still be drinkable, of course, but probably not as tasteful as it is quite fresh. But what if Dean will wake up when Castiel is still out running? Castiel would hate the thought of Dean either having to wait for him or being forced to make his own coffee.

Castiel chews his bottom lip and for a moment considers canceling his run altogether. Granted, it relaxes him, but it's not like he can't live without it for the weekend.

“You should go running,” Claire jerks him out of his thoughts, once again able to read his mind, so it seems. “You always need it when you're stressed.”

Castiel shoots a glance at her. “I'm not stressed.”

“Right.” Claire snorts, clearly not believing one word he's saying. “Your old friend is here and you went crazy the entire week before making everything perfect for him. And then the thing that happened last night …”

Castiel's chest constricts as he thinks yet again about Daphne and the missed opportunity because of life and miscommunication and hurt feelings.

 _Damn_ , what a mess.

And even though Dean probably had been right that in the end it turned out for the better, Castiel is still kind of upset about everything that went down back then.

So yes, possibly Claire is right and he actually might be a little stressed. But can you blame him?

“Was everything alright yesterday?” Claire wonders. Castiel and Dean had kept to themselves for the rest of the night (which hadn't turned out that long anyway because Dean had been pretty exhausted from his long drive to Kansas), so she hadn't seen either of them after she had left dinner with her brother. “I mean, it sounded like …”

She pauses, obviously not sure how to explain it.

Castiel sighs. “It's fine,” he assures her. “It was just … a misunderstanding.”

Claire arches her brows as though she doesn't believe that for a second (and naturally she is right in a way – it's been _way more_ than a simple misunderstanding), but she refrains from asking further questions about it. She might be curious, Castiel doesn't really doubt that, however, she also knows to respect other people's privacy.

“Why are you even up?” he asks, both genuinely interested by the answer as well as keen on changing the subject. “It's Saturday.”

Claire shrugs and gazes deeply into her tea. “I guess I couldn't sleep.”

Castiel looks at her. It's quite understandable that there is still a lot going on in her head. It's at least not everyday you find a Hollywood star at your front door.

“I'm sorry again,” he says with a sigh. “For not warning you about who Dean really is. I mean, I _seriously_ don't care that he's a famous actor, but I also knew it would be quite a shock for you.”

Claire glances at him. “Why did you actually never tell me? I mean, like years before.”

Castiel grimaces at her tone. It's not exactly accusatory, but he still notices a waver in her voice.

“I guess I was afraid,” he confesses. “For a long time I thought Dean had forgotten about me. And I figured if I would've told you about our past you would've insisted on reaching out to him again. All excited and whatnot. And at one point I would've relented, I'm sure.” He takes a deep breath. “And I guess I was scared I would be disappointed. Because at that time I couldn't really fathom Dean recalling my very existence and therefore ending up not answering my letter. It would've hurt. To have actual _confirmation_ that Dean doesn't remember me.”

Claire assesses him for a long moment.

“I guess that makes sense,” she eventually concedes. “That would've sucked.”

Castiel chuckles lowly. “Yes, it would have.”

An amused smile flickers over Claire's lips. “Thank God he did remember you in the end,” she points out. “I mean, _boy_ , did that guy remember you.”

Castiel can't help a flush and hastily turns back to the coffeemaker.

  
  


\---

  
  


Dean is up very early the next day and no matter what he tries he is unable to fall back asleep.

He groans. He knows it's not the unfamiliar surroundings keeping him awake considering due to his job he is used to sleeping in all kinds of places, all over the world. And it's also not the pull-out couch since it's, just as Cas promised, absolutely nice to lie on. Granted, nothing compared to Dean's memory foam back at home, but it's comfy and actually better than lots of other mattresses he slept on before, even in those so-called high-end hotels Benny always puts him in.

No, it's probably just the situation itself that makes Dean all jittery and giddy and unable to find some long, uninterrupted rest.

After all, he is in _Cas'_ house. In his study. On his mattress. Smelling his detergent on the sheets. And spending most of his time wondering if those are specifically for guests or if Cas actually uses them as well. If he wrapped himself into them before, his body warm, his skin brushing over the material –

 _Damn_.

Dean really should learn to get a grip of himself if he actually wants to survive this weekend.

So after a minute or two of chiding himself he climbs out of bed and stumbles into the direction of the kitchen. He can't be left alone with his crazy thoughts first thing in the morning without any coffee whatsoever, it'll only get worse and worse. He might even end up _sniffing_ the sheets and _sighing_ in contentment like the heroine in a romance drama and that's something Dean seriously would like to avoid.

He's not a creeper, thank you very much.

So caffeine is an absolute necessity.

It's early enough he feels confident not to meet anyone on his way, but just when he dares to actually hope to have time to become a normally functioning human being again before having to deal with company it is instantly shattered when he finally reaches the kitchen and sees himself confronted with Claire sitting at the dining table and sipping on something that suspiciously looks like tea.

Dean freezes at the door just as Claire catches sight of him and equally pauses her motions, the mug in her hands halfway in the air.

For a moment they simply stare at each other, the tension in the room as confusing as it is heavy. Claire seemed to have warmed up to him during the dinner last night and actually seemed like she got somewhat adjusted to the unusual circumstances, but oftentimes Dean noticed her gaping at him as though she couldn't believe he's actually true.

And she is doing it right now again.

This time, however, they're all alone. No one there to offer a welcome distraction and relax the atmosphere.

And Dean suddenly feels at a loss. He'd like to blame it on the lack of caffeine in his system, but the truth is he probably would react the very same way with gallons of coffee running through his veins. It wouldn't make a difference. He likes to play the cocky entertainer and witty charmer, but deep down he's just an awkward nerd not really sure how to deal with a lot of things. It definitely isn't an exaggeration when he tells Benny and Charlie that he would be lost without them, not just in the chaotic world of stardom but in general as well.

So here is now, all alone with Cas' daughter.

And he feels like an idiot for not knowing what to do next.

“Uuumm,” he says, desperately trying to pick up some sort of conversation and let the awkward silence hanging between them dissipate. “Coffee?”

Claire blinks at him for a moment, like she doesn't even remember what that word might mean. But eventually her brain catches up and she points at an already halfway filled coffee pot standing on the counter.

“Dad made some,” she says, sounding somewhat relieved to have a simple topic to focus on. “He thought you might like a dose if you were to wake up before he returns.”

Dean finally steps into the kitchen, the coffee looking more inviting than anything else he can currently think of. “Your dad is already up?”

Claire rolls his eyes, the gesture clearly meant for Cas. “He likes to run early in the morning.”

Dean grimaces hard at that. “That sounds like torture.”

“That's what I'm always saying, too.”

They share a moment of weird camaraderie before he goes on to fill himself some coffee into the mug Cas obviously left on the counter for him as well and takes a very large gulp, not at all caring that the liquid is still rather hot. His throat and chest protest, but the need for caffeine is stronger than any discomfort.

Still feeling awkward but not being that much of a coward to instantly excuse himself again and flee the room Dean eventually joins Claire at the kitchen table. For a while they just exist quietly next to each other, sipping on their beverages and trying to appear calmer than they actually are.

“This is really weird for you, isn't it?” Dean finally breaks the silence.

Claire pulls a face at the very obvious question. “Well, when Dad told us about his old friend I certainly didn't imagine _you_.”

Dean nods along. “Understandable.”

“I'm just rethinking all the things he told us about you before I knew who you were,” Claire explains. “I mean, the other day he showed us some pictures of your brother's dogs and just last night, when I was lying in bed, I just found myself realizing, _'Oh my God, I know what Dean Winchester's brother's dogs like look_!'” She snorts at that. “I mean, okay, this isn't by any means life-changing or anything, but it's also not something you find anywhere in the press or social media or whatever. It's … well, it's something _personal_ about you.” She shakes her head in disbelief. “Damn, I know personal things about Dean Winchester and I had no idea. What is my life even?”

Dean smiles easily. He definitely can imagine this being kind of mind-blowing in a lot of ways.

“And of course that whole _Mystery Crush_ mess,” Claire continues, various emotions flickering over her features at the memory. “I mean, the entire time I thought it was cute and all and I even debated with some people on the internet who that guy might be, how he might look like … while that very guy sat right next in the other room. My _Dad_.” She scoffs. “Dean Winchester had a crush _on my Dad_! Can you believe it?”

Dean starts to squirm a bit on his seat and seriously hopes she doesn't expect an answer from him.

Because he's pretty sure he won't be able to give her one without blushing.

Thankfully, though, Claire doesn't dwell too long on it. “And I can't even tell anyone,” she grumbles, obviously quite put out by the fact. “I've got the power to blow all your fans' minds with that information in my hand. I could share it with the whole wide world and watch as the internet explodes.” She sighs deeply. “But then I'd have paparazzi at my front door and my Dad would be miserable and _damn_ , he looks like a kicked puppy when he's miserable, it's so freaking heartbreaking, I could never do that to him –”

She takes a deep breath, apparently taking a moment to collect herself.

“How are you even doing it?” she wonders, her gaze almost as intense as her father's. “How are you capable of keeping normal relationships when everyone's in danger of ending up as the new headline? After all, even grocery shopping seems to be a hassle.” She studies him intently. “ _Do_ you even keep normal relationships?”

She appears both genuinely interested as well as deeply sympathetic and Dean suddenly sees so much of Cas in her it almost hurts.

“Well,” he begins, mulling this over carefully in his head to give her a satisfying answer because that's the least she deserves. “First of all, what even classifies as 'normal'? I mean, I've got my mom, my brother, cousins, friends, work colleagues, etc. I'd like to imagine my relationships with them aren't anything out of the ordinary.” He takes a big gulp of his coffee, hoping for the caffeine to fully kick in sometime soon. “But of course I know what you mean. I can't just take my brother bowling on the weekend. I can't bring a date to a nice restaurant. Or invite my mom to a trip to London or Paris or wherever. At least not without getting a lot of attention from almost everyone around me.”

Dean loves his job, he really does, but lots of days he could live without all the stardom. Of course he likes interacting with his fans and having them see him as a role model, however, sometimes it seems like he's sacrificed a part of his freedom for this life.

And he knows he will never be able to go grocery shopping without putting up a disguise again. Even if he'd stop making any movies and showing up in the public eye the very next day people would still remember him for a very long time.

It's something he learned to deal with many years ago.

And still, sometimes it's very hard.

“I'm always trying to keep my private life to myself,” he says. “But it can be difficult, even with lots of help. So yes, maintaining 'normal' relationships is quite a challenge. But it's always worth it.”

Claire watches him for a moment with a quiet scrutiny. “Like with my dad?”

Dean can't help a fond smile. “ _Especially_ like with your dad.”

Having a friendship like that, one that's _not_ linked to his work somehow, it really means a big deal to him. Sure, he loves Charlie and Benny to death, but they're part of his Hollywood life. Part of that everyday circus. Cas, however, is a breeze of fresh normalcy in an ocean of constant excitement and chaotic energy.

“So I guess you'll be around more often in the future, huh?” Claire wonders, looking at Dean's wistful expression with a crooked smirk.

Dean clears his throat. “Well, if your Dad wants to …” he says. “And if you and Jack are okay with it.”

Claire scoffs. “Trust me, Jack is the easiest person to get along with. He'll probably have you adopted by the end of the weekend.”

Dean laughs at the mental image, but at the same time, thinking about all he's heard and seen of the boy, Claire isn't that far off most likely.

“And I …” Claire cocks her head to the side and makes a big show of considering all her options. “I guess it doesn't seem too bad to have you around.”

Dean snorts. “I truly appreciate that ringing endorsement.”

“Don't let it get to your head, though,” she warns him. “Just one wrong word and I could make your life very unpleasant.”

Dean's just about to open his mouth to counter with a witty retort, but the sound of the front door closing makes both of them turn their heads toward the hallway. And it's only a moment later when Cas appears and shoots a curious glance into the kitchen.

“Dean,” he says, his face lighting up at the sight of his friend. “You're up early, I see.”

Dean blinks at him. At the back of his mind he's very aware he should reply to that statement, but somehow he finds himself quite distracted all of a sudden.

Because Cas is sweating. And panting.

While being wrapped in very tight runner shorts.

 _Criminally_ tight.

Dean had no idea that Cas' thighs were so … uh, _pronounced_.

But suddenly his eyes are unable to focus on anything else. Even as embarrassment starts to color his cheeks his gaze stay fixed on Cas' legs.

Damn.

Thankfully Cas doesn't seem to pick up on that. He easily chats about his run like it's the most exciting thing that ever happened to him. Even as Claire begins to grumble and calls him “insane” for exercising so early in the morning without anyone chasing him (an argument that seems to not come up for the first time) Cas doesn't lose his spirit.

While Dean keeps on staring at his hair all tousled up and feels himself getting even redder.

“ – right, Dean?”

Dean blinks in confusion as he notices both Cas' as well as Claire's gaze resting on him. “Uuhhh … what?”

Dammit, could he be any more pathetic?

Cas, however, only smiles softly at him, probably deeming his friend still a bit sleepy. “I just said you promised to make your burgers today, right?”

Oh right.

Food. Burgers.

A safe topic.

“Yes!” he agrees, way more enthusiastically than necessary. “My burgers. They're gonna blow your minds.”

Cas chuckles. “We'll see. I'm quite picky about my burgers, to be honest.”

He winks at him, like he's sharing some inside joke Dean seriously can't remember right now, before he turns on his heels, mumbles something about a shower and heads out.

While Dean finds himself suddenly quite busy realizing that Cas' ass looks very _pronounced_ in those tight shorts too.

Shit.

Dean groans quietly, cursing himself for being such a ridiculous mess.

Who did ever claim he had his life together?

Because he seriously, _seriously_ does have not!

“You know,” Claire's voice suddenly pipes up again, jerking Dean so violently out of his reverie he nearly knocks the table over, “somehow I've got a feeling you're gonna be around here _a lot_ in the future, huh?”

And then she shoots him a knowing smile.

 _DAMN_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, Claire knows what's up 😏
> 
> And I hope you had fun with all the bonding and Dean being a general mess around Cas ;D I most certainly did!
> 
> Until next time then, in four weeks!  
> Prepare yourself for mechanic!Dean, Cas having a hard time dealing with all that, and some special guest showing up on the scene, much to Cas' chagrin ;D
> 
> And, as always, thank you so much for your overwhelming support 😘  
> You're all blowing me away every single day!


	21. The Mechanic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my friends *throws confetti into the air*
> 
> Here we're back again, FINALLY 🙌
> 
> I really missed this story and I counted the days until this very moment! I've got some serious withdrawal, I can tell you >.<
> 
> Even though it was the right decision in the end (because yeah, the last few weeks were quite exhausting) and I probably would do it all over again if I'd ever find myself flung back into time somehow ;D
> 
> But hey, here we are now and nothing can stop me!!
> 
> Not even my laptop choosing today of all days – because _of course_ – to stop working properly and crashing constantly instead >.< I can barely do anything with it right now and it took me like half an eternity to upload this chapter, but like I said, NOTHING. CAN. STOP. ME!!!!!
> 
> I hope you have fun with our two favorite idiots continuing to be idiots :D
> 
> -

Castiel feels a little like he's been transported back in time.

Granted, that is an almost constant sensation since he got back in touch with Dean, but right now it's getting even more powerful than he could ever have imagined. At least seeing Dean in old jeans and a worn shirt bending underneath his car's hood surely awakens a lot of memories in Castiel, there is no question about that.

He feels like sixteen again, sitting on the grass and trying not to be too obvious in his observations. More often than not he tried to train his attention on the book or homework or whatever he had in his hand in those specific moments, but he found himself glancing over to the Winchester's driveway over and over. He just couldn't help it. The way Dean handled all those tools and worked on the Impala or his mother's car with concentration and precision and so much confidence simply drew Castiel in.

And it seems that didn't change much since the last twenty years. Dean still appears exactly in his element, his eyes wandering over the insides of Castiel's car like it's the most clear thing in the world rather than a huge clutter of random tubes and machines. There is no hesitation, do doubting, no second guessing. Just knowing and doing.

And it allures Castiel in a way he has no idea how to interpret. He always enjoyed watching Dean in his tasks – starting with simple things as cooking or menial jobs around the house and ending with acting on the big screen itself –, but for some reason seeing him as a mechanic is doing some weird things to Castiel.

He can't really explain it. He feels himself getting captivated by a stain on Dean's jeans, right at the hip. By the stretch of his shirt as he bends forward a bit more to reach a part that's a little harder to access. By the way the muscles in his arm flex as he tightens a screw.

It's not something Castiel usually finds himself intrigued with – neither on Dean nor on anyone else for that matter –, but this time he's unable to take his eyes off. His body is sending some very odd signals to his head and it takes a lot out of him not to make any embarrassing noises in the process.

“Well, it doesn't seem like something too serious,” Dean pipes up eventually, jolting Castiel so hard out of his thoughts he almost smacks himself into the face in surprise. “It's mainly just a few loose screws clanking against the converter …”

He goes on and on and uses lots of technical babble in the process Castiel has no chance of deciphering without consulting some expert website first. But instead of interrupting Dean's stream of words and asking for clarifications Castiel merely nods and smiles, trusting his friend so completely that he doesn't see any need to get a further grasp of this himself. Dean clearly knows what he's doing and Castiel has no intention of doubting his abilities.

No, instead he's just happy that he's saving some money for an obviously minor problem.

And that he's able to admire Dean at work once again.

Nevertheless Castiel tries to force himself to stay at least somewhat vigilant and not lose sight of their surroundings. They're in the driveway after all and even though the house is pretty secluded and people only usually pass it when they're headed for the woods (which, around this time of day, doesn't happen all that awful lot) they're still somewhat exposed. Castiel certainly doesn't like to stand around so out in the open, but it's not like he can drive the car into the backyard or use the garage which is so cluttered with junk collected over the course of many years he'd need at least several hours to make enough room first.

“You okay there, Cas?” Dean asks after a few minutes of silence. To no one's surprise he apparently picked up on Castiel's tumultuous feelings and can't help a quick side-glance at his friend.

Castiel grimaces. “I'm fine.”

Dean assesses him rather skeptically. “Is this the grocery store all over again?” he wonders. “Dude, you don't have to freak out every time that someone might spot me as soon as we're out of the house.”

Castiel shoots him a glare. “This is your fault. For becoming so ridiculously famous and everything.”

“Jeez, I'm terribly sorry, Cas. It won't happen again.”

“I sure hope so.”

Dean sends him a brilliant smile while raising his arm to readjust the popped-up hood again, the movement making his shirt ride up once more and displaying his tummy in all its glory for Castiel to admire.

All that skin … very distracting …

Ah _dammit_.

“Relax, man,” Dean says and for a horrible moment Castiel fears his friend might be talking about the fact that he can't keep his eyes off Dean's belly button. “You don't need to be so nervous all the time.”

Castiel frowns.

What?

“What?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “That someone might walk by and recognize me by accident,” he reminds Castiel. “As I said many times before, it's not as likely as you think.”

Castiel sighs and notices his concentration coming back to him as Dean lowers his arm and the belly button disappears underneath his shirt once again.

“I'm sorry for worrying too much,” he scoffs. “I guess I'm not used to having a Hollywood star in my house.”

Dean shoots him another dazzling grin. “I guess then I have to come around more often. To get you used to it, of course.”

Castiel, for some reason, finds himself unable to answer and instead just does a jerky motion with his head that might have been a nod or not.

Thankfully Dean decides not to comment on that but goes back to the car's tubes and machines. Soon enough he's lost in his element once more and Castiel can't help relaxing a little bit.

He hates to admit it, but naturally Dean does have a point. He is used to this life style by now, he knows how to blend in and avoid being seen by anyone. He's an expert in walking in the shadows and appearing as average and uninteresting as possible.

It's a true skill, considering Dean's bright personality and the fact that stray eyes usually settle on him out of pure instinct. It must have taken a lot of practice to come to this point.

After all, their little grocery run the day before went down absolutely smoothly. Even the chatty cashier didn't spare Dean a single glance. And Castiel realized afterwards that he shouldn't have wasted any kind of energy getting himself concerned and worked up.

Granted, a healthy amount of caution is important, no question about that. But tensing up and ringing his alarm bells after even the slightest breeze is definitely too much.

So he tells himself to take a very deep and calming breath and focuses on Dean again. On the way he handles the tools with such grace, on the fact that his jeans are getting quite tight on his backside when he bends over a little deeper, on the way he spreads his legs almost obscenely wide as he has to reach a part of the engine that's difficult to access …

_Oh dear Jesus_.

It seems this is going to be a _long_ weekend.

A _very_ long one.

Thankfully, though, he finds his attention diverted once more only a few minutes later.

Not so thankfully, however, it's not something nice.

Because he suddenly notices a car not only approaching but actually parking right in front of their house and for a moment Castiel's heart skips a beat or two.

_Damn_.

His first instinct is to yell at Dean to stay underneath the hood, out of sight, under any circumstances before running toward the new arrival and distract them to either get rid of them entirely or at least give Dean enough opportunity to escape inside.

His brain is already turning into overdrive, coming up with several different scenarios where this might end up alright with Dean staying as anonymous as before.

And then all of a sudden Castiel recognizes the person behind the wheel.

He sighs in relief at first. Because Dean's secret is safe.

But then he freezes as he abruptly realizes that this actually is much worse.

_MUCH_ worse.

Castiel groans inwardly and deeply regrets that he didn't just push Dean inside the house and lock the door behind him. That would've been far less painful.

“Hey, Clarence,” the person's voice carries over to him when she climbs out of her car and walks up to driveway toward them. “Looking good, as always.”

And then she sends him a playful wink.

Like the bastard she is.

“Meg,” he sighs, wondering what in the hell he did to deserve such a fate. “What are you doing here?”

Meg grins brightly at him and even though she is wearing dark sunglasses Castiel is pretty sure he can actually see the lively sparkle in her eyes through the tainted glass.

“I just thought I'd drop by,” she answers, pretending to be all casual even though they both know it's far from the truth. “Nothing big.”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “ _Today_ of all days you decided to drop by? Just because?”

“Sure,” she says in the exact same tone she always tells him _“whatever you wanna believe, little angel”_.

Castiel really can't remember why he ever thought it would be a good idea to befriend this woman. How come he didn't simply maintain an ordinary professional relationship with her, like with most of his staff? Why did he believe it would be of advantage to make her something special?

His past self seriously lost his mind somewhere along the way.

“Meg, I don't think –”

But she merely interrupts him with a wave of her hand, like he's an annoying fly she has to shoo away, and heads for Castiel's car. More precisely, the front, right where Dean stayed hidden behind the hood, probably since he noticed the additional voice way too close.

He indeed learned how to stay invisible if the situation requires it.

Unfortunately that doesn't impress Meg much.

“Hello, Mr. Winchester,” she says, way too much amusement in her tone when she halts beside him. “It's nice to make your acquaintance.”

As soon as he knows he's busted Dean raises his head and comes out of his hiding spot. He assesses Meg from head to toe, looking wary rather than interested in her way too tight jeans and the revealing top, as though he deems her a predator ready for attack in the next second, no matter how she's dressed.

And he's certainly not wrong.

“You're Meg, I presume?” he asks in the end, his tone both cautious as well as amused. It's an odd combination, but it fits surprisingly well to the entire situation.

“So you heard about me?” Meg beams at him

“Well, your reputation precedes you, yes,” Dean agrees. “Besides, Cas just called you by your name. So it wasn't all that hard to figure out.”

Meg smiles that smile of hers that looks so innocent while in truth it's really, _really_ not.

“I'm sure we will have an amazing time at dinner,” she says with a chuckle. “I can't wait to get to know you better. Clarence is barely able to talk about anything else but you.”

While Dean starts to squirm a bit, probably due to both her intense gaze as well as her words, Castiel can't help stepping up next to her, his expression just one of utter confusion.

“Dinner?” he wonders, alarm creeping into his voice now. “Who said anything about dinner?”

“You did,” Meg answers absolutely casually. “Remember? When I helped you with that Henderson report and you were so grateful you invited me to dinner?”

Castiel stares at her in disbelief. “That was _two years ago_ ,” he reminds her with emphasis. “You never took me up on the offer.”

Meg shrugs him off like that's just a minor detail. “So what? It's not like there was any expiration date.”

Castiel grinds his teeth. “That doesn't mean you can just invite yourself to a family dinner out of the blue.”

She just tuts him. “I'm pretty sure it does.”

“I'm pretty sure it _doesn't_ –”

“I hope there will be something decent to eat, I'm starving,” she cuts in, completely ignoring Castiel in the process. “Nothing vegetarian though, I need my meat today.”

And with these words she steps through the open gate into the backyard as if all of this is just a perfectly normal occurrence.

For a moment Castiel just stares at her retreating form, feeling absolutely flabbergasted.

And then he sighs.

Deeply.

“I'm so sorry,” he says to Dean. “So very, _very_ sorry.”

“Why?” Dean wonders. “We've got more than enough food and she's your friend, right?”

Castiel grimaces at that. “You don't understand, Dean,” he breathes dramatically. “I'm so _**very**_ sorry.”

  
  


\---

  
  


Dean's burgers turn out even more amazing than he promised.

But Castiel barely has any time to focus on it for long, his attention consumed by Meg entirely. Because he knows something will go terribly wrong with her in the house. It's just a given at this point.

Claire and Jack had been delighted by their additional company, both of them thinking Meg hilarious for having no filter whatsoever. For someone working in a school and being surrounded by children on a regular basis she doesn't give a damn what she's saying and how inappropriate her words are, she always speaks what's on her mind. Not at all caring who might overhear.

And granted, Castiel appreciates honesty in all its forms – after all, he's known for being rather blunt as well –, but he still thinks there are some boundaries you should maintain. Limits of decency. A healthy knowledge when to keep your mouth closed.

_Especially_ around minors.

Meg, however, never got that memo.

She seems all too happy sitting in the Novak's backyard, eating their food and bombarding Dean with thousands of questions. At first it started quite normal and innocent, just some regular inquiries about his life and job, but soon enough they drifted into territory not even Castiel had dared to cross yet. It's relationships and alleged affairs and the barely clothed side of Hollywood and Castiel just wants the ground to swallow him whole.

“Now for the most important question of the day,” Meg says after everyone had their first serving and started to feel sated and happy. “ _Essential_ even.”

Dean only appears amused by her antics. “What is it then?”

“In that rom-com movie of yours – I forgot the name because I'm terrible with names –” She rolls her eyes as though remembering such things is the bane of her entire existence. “The one with the nude scene –”

Castiel squeezes his eyes shut.

Dear God.

“Did you have a nude model?” Meg asks, her grin full of curiosity and mischief. “Or was that seriously your very own magnificent naked ass on the screen?”

Castiel rubs his temples and desperately tries to fight back the headache coming his way.

Dean, meanwhile, only laughs good-naturedly. “Nope, no model. That was all, 100% me.”

Meg appears highly intrigued by those news. “Interesting. _Very_ interesting.”

Castiel groans as the image of that specific scene pops up in his mind uninvited. He attempts to chase it away, chastising himself for even thinking about his friend like that, but the picture stays solid, right in front of his inner eye, and doesn't seem to be eager to go anywhere. So Castiel finds himself at the mercy of that very scene, Dean's character just stepping out of the shower, wet from top to bottom, and the camera getting that shot from behind, the most perfect angle …

Dear Lord in Heaven.

The moment Castiel saw that scene so many years ago he just knew it would haunt him to eternity. And he was obviously right.

“Meg,” he growls, as he simultaneously tries to keep any kind of blush under control. “Do you _seriously_ think this is an appropriate topic of conversation with children present?”

Meg merely frowns at him. “What?” she wonders. “The human body is something completely natural. Why shouldn't we talk about it?”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “If it were _only that_ with you I would have no issues.”

But the insinuations and hidden agendas surely _are_ a problem.

He doesn't even care that Claire and Jack seem mostly amused by their father's disgruntlement and not at all traumatized by anything that has been said so far. Sure, he's pretty sure talking about Dean's naked ass would never be their favorite subject ever, but for the chance of seeing Castiel flustered – like _always_ when Meg comes over for a visit – they appear more than happy to endure it.

It's obviously a small price to pay for having your father squirm uncomfortably on his chair.

Thankfully, though, Dean seems to catch up on that. Before he had been nothing but a pro answering all of Meg's questions, even the most invasive ones, likely already so used to getting pestered by the press and his fans that he doesn't even break a sweat at this point. It's possibly hard to shock him even on a bad day.

And Castiel is certain he would have been able to go on like this for hours on end. He's charming and witty and knows how to wrap people around his finger. And Meg's absolute weakness is someone actually standing up to her, as Dean probably realized quite soon. So he found himself eager to please her, to see her entertained. To make her laugh.

Because she is part of Castiel's life and Dean looks rather keen on fitting in, no matter what.

It's almost endearing. But also a little worrying since Castiel has no intention to watch Dean bend backwards just because he believes he has to.

It appears they still have to talk about some things.

However, just as he's contemplating whether he should pull Dean aside for a moment and get the air clear between them Dean is already picking the conversation up again with an anecdote from his latest movie project, obviously ready to stir their talk into safer grounds, mainly for Castiel's benefit. It doesn't take long for everything becoming rather animated once more, questions and jokes and hilarious stories switched in record speed, and Castiel finds himself relaxing slowly.

Soon enough Meg joins in with her own tales and work stories – because at the end of the day a high school is lots of things, but never boring – and before anyone even knows what happened hours have passed.

“Hey Dean?” Jack eventually raises his voice after a little lull in their conversation.

Claire excused herself a while ago, after she received a quite blush-inducing text by Kaia, it seems, but Jack appeared happy enough to stay in his seat and listen to the grown-ups and their stories.

“Yeah?” Dean wonders, obviously a bit startled that Jack addressed him directly out of the blue.

“Do you know baseball?” Jack asks.

Dean blinks a few times, but eventually he finds himself smiling gently. “Yeah, I've heard of it. I even played it in high school for a while.”

Jack instantly beams at those news. “Do you think you could show me a few tricks? We're doing baseball in gym class right now and I'm really not very good at it and Dad is no help either …”

Castiel huffs at that. “I gave you lots of suggestions.”

Jack rolls his eyes. “Yes, about strategies and how to calculate your 'enemy's next move'. And sure, that might be helpful if I'd ever go to battle or something, but this is middle school baseball, Dad.”

Castiel can't help a pout, but unfortunately he's unable to argue with that.

Dean just sends him a smirk, clearly amused by their little banter but at least polite enough not to join in, and eventually leaps to his feet to follow Jack deeper into the garden. Jack obviously already fetched some baseball gloves and a ball at some point before and seems more than ready to get this all started.

Dean appears fondly entertained by the boy as he watches Jack gesturing wildly around and either relaying his tale about the hardships of being Castiel's son or just simply getting him up to speed about what he learned about the sport already and where he still got questions nobody was able to answer so far.

The scene mildly reminds Castiel of the time when Dean taught his little brother some soccer in their backyard for about the entirety of summer break. Castiel had vastly enjoyed to study their interactions, their affectionate teasing and roughhousing, but also Dean's astounding patience with Sam trying to get the hang of the game.

Castiel found it quite endearing back then and obviously that hadn't changed all that much over the years, considering the fact how his chest starts to feel all warm as he observes Dean and Jack huddling together, Dean the patient teacher and Jack the eager student.

Castiel smiles at the pictures and doesn't even give a damn he probably looks like a fool right now.

“ _So_ ,” Meg's voice eventually pulls him out of his reverie, “he's indeed quite gorgeous. Even more so than on screen.”

For a moment Castiel has no idea what she is even referring to and just casts a bewildered look in her direction. “What?”

Meg snorts. “ _Dean_ ,” she says with emphasis, gesturing at the man rather excessively. “ _You know_? The handsome guy who stays at your house. The one you insist is 'just a good friend'.”

Castiel chews his bottom lip at her phrasing. He _seriously_ doesn't want to talk about it.

“And you're really dead-set on not tapping that?” she asks, clear disbelief in her tone. “Because, Clarence, the things you two could do –”

“Meg,” Castiel cuts, sighing in frustration. They've been having the very same conversation many times since the last few months and no matter what he's saying, it doesn't seem to discourage her to go on and on.

“What is there to think about?” she wonders. “He's handsome, a mechanic, he can cook, he gets along with your kids and he clearly adores you.”

“He doesn't –”

“It's not been me he has been staring at with that sappy expression for the better part of dinner,” Meg interjects. “And I'm not saying he was on the brink of proposing marriage – but _damn_ , Castiel, I'm pretty sure he was on the brink of proposing marriage!”

Castiel rolls his eyes.

Always those dramatics.

“I know you're enjoying this weird little game of yours –”

“It's not a game,” Meg objects. “I just want you to be happy.”

She actually sounds genuine enough that Castiel doesn't scoff right into her face.

“Despite what society tells us a romantic relationship is not the height of happiness,” Castiel counters. “I love my life as it is right now. Nothing needs to change.”

Meg frowns. “Nothing?”

Castiel tilts his head. “Well, I could've lived with you _not_ attending this dinner,” he says with a teasing note. “But we can't have it all, can we?”

Meg squints her eyes at him, clearly not finished with her ongoing arguments. But thankfully Claire decided to return in that moment, dropping onto the bench right next to Castiel while shooting a soft smile at Dean showing Jack the right stance in the distance, and Meg releases all the breath she had been holding.

And Castiel can't help sighing in relief, glad to be safe for now.

He knows it'll only hold until he's back to work on Monday at the very most, but Castiel takes anything he can get at this point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I hope you had fun with Meg messing up their dinner plans ;D
> 
> And next week I've got a very special treat for you: the entire chapter from Claire and Jack's POV! Prepare for some Jack-Dean bonding time and a little DreamHunter thrown into the mix :))
> 
> Until next time then!


	22. Kids These Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here we are again!
> 
> As I already mentioned last time this is quite the special chapter and I hope you're gonna enjoy it :D
> 
> Have fun!
> 
> -

Jack likes Dean.

Granted, he never really believed it could be anything else. After all, the guy had made Dad smile continually for the last few months, quite in a way Jack has very rarely experienced. It's actually really nice to see your father that happy and therefore Jack never doubted that he would grow to like Dean too at some point, just for that fact alone.

But as it turns out Dean is one of these people whose company is hard not to enjoy. He's funny, he's charming, he's considerate (after all, how many Hollywood stars are going grocery shopping, repairing cars and making family dinner like any other day?), and it seems he doesn't just spend his time with Jack and Claire to appease their dad but because he genuinely wants to.

At least Jack doesn't feel only like the means to an end as Dean takes a huge amount of extra time to reveal all the secrets of baseball while relaying personal anecdotes left and right. He doesn't even shy away from telling truly embarrassing stories about his school sports career – things the media would go crazy about, Jack is sure – and it appears so natural it's impossible that this is all just an act to get the children on his good side.

“I like you,” Jack announces out of the blue, rather bluntly, totally interrupting Dean mid-story. In the back of his mind he realizes he's being rude again, way too straightforward and honest to have people be comfortable around him, but somehow he never really grasped the concept of keeping it down. He tried, he seriously did, and in most situations he honestly manages to stay collected by now. However, whenever personal or new feelings are involved he's still having a hard time getting his mouth under control.

Dean, at least, freezes at Jack's words and stares at him with wide eyes for a very long moment. And then, as expected, he lowers his gaze and fumbles for his words. “Um, that is – I mean – thank you, I guess?”

Jack grins. It's always funny to make adults squirm like that.

“I – I like you, too,” Dean hastily adds, as though he's afraid Jack might interpret this differently and change his mind about him in a manner of microseconds. “I mean –”

Jack laughs. “Sorry for making you uncomfortable.”

He so _not_ sorry. But he's always been told to give manners a proper shot, so he's trying his best.

“I'm not,” Dean insists. “Uncomfortable, I mean.” He clears his throat rather loudly. “I mean, you're Cas' kid after all. I should've expected something like that.”

“Because he sometimes has no filter?”

A fond smile flickers over Dean's features. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Though to be fair, he's not as bad anymore. It's been way worse when he was a teenager.”

Jack grins lopsidedly. “Is this the moment where you tell me all the embarrassing childhood stories of my dad?”

Dean laughs loudly. “I've got a few, yes. If you wanna hear them.”

And of course Jack does. So for the next fifteen minutes, while simultaneously learning the best way to handle his baseball glove, he also listens to stories about his father he never heard before. Like the time Dad climbed a huge tree to help a bird in need and eventually got stuck on the tall thing, resulting in Jack's grandparents actually having to call the fire department. Or when, after a heavy rainfall, he totally miscalculated the depth of a puddle in his own garden and found himself sinking to his knees. Or how Dad always got himself followed by Mrs. Lindner's five million cats only because he visited the fish market on a regular basis and repeatedly forgot to shower and change afterwards.

Jack grins at all those little stories and reminds himself to relay them to Claire later that night. She would probably enjoy to hear them as well.

At some point, though, Dean's attention seems to drift afar again. More often than not he glances toward Dad and Meg being engaged in a very animated discussion and slowly scooting closer to each other in the process. A weird expression flickers over Dean's features and Jack has no real idea what to make of it.

“So, um …” Dean sounds all kinds of awkward all of a sudden as he leans closer to Jack again, his eyes, however, never leaving the two on the bench. “What's the deal with your dad and that Meg?”

Jack frowns. He actually thought it was very obvious that those two are good friends.

So he says, “They're good friends.”

Because at the end of the day that's the truth and he doesn't really understand how someone could question that.

Dean makes quite the odd noise in the back of his throat. “Yeah, I mean, I know,” he says, his words stumbling over each other a little. “I just … they seem pretty close, that's all.”

Jack blinks. “You're pretty close with Dad, too.”

Dean huffs like that's not the response he has been hoping for. “That's really not a good example, kid.”

“Why not?” Jack asks in confusion.

Dean casts him a look, this time intensely looking at him as though he's considering how to phrase his next words. But in the end he just goes for a grunt and says, “Never mind.”

Jack's gaze wanders back to his father and Meg and he wonders if there is something in their interaction he never noticed before. He doesn't spot anything out of the ordinary – Meg with her omnipresent pleased smirk and Dad both exasperated and strangely fond –, but it somehow managed to trigger something in Dean. Perhaps there is more to it than meets the eye after all.

“You think the way they interact with one another is weird?” Jack asks, tilting his head pensively as he watches Meg laugh heartily at something his father said.

“No, uh, not weird,” Dean tries to explain, suddenly a faint blush showing up on his cheeks. “I just … I just was wondering if … well, if Meg is around a lot, you know? And if she and your dad do some things together, without you kids around?”

Jack narrows his eyes. “Are you asking if they're courting each other?”

Dean starts to splutter, clearly not having expected that. “I – I didn't mean – _where_ did you even pick up that term?”

Jack just shrugs. “I heard people talking about it.”

Dean stares at him as if he's not really sure what to do with him all of a sudden.

“And to answer your question, I actually don't know,” Jack replies honestly. “I never even considered it before. Dad doesn't really talk about things like that with us. But don't you think he would've told _you_ if there were seriously something happening? You're one of his closest friends after all.”

Dean seems rather thoughtful after that statement.

“You may have a point,” he concedes eventually.

But there is still some doubt in his voice and Jack really hates to hear that.

“Why don't you just ask him?” Jack urges. After all, the issue could be easily resolved, right?

Dean, however, looks close to mortified at the suggestion. “No, no, it's fine,” he waves him off instantly. “I just – I just got curious, nothing to bother your dad with.”

Jack frowns.

Adults are so very strange sometimes.

“You're very strange sometimes.”

Dean chuckles at that and pats him on the shoulder. “I know, buddy,” he agrees wholeheartedly. “Trust me, I know.”

  
  


\---

  
  


It doesn't take any time at all for Monday to arrive.

Actually Dean intended to drive back home on Sunday, but Meg successfully convinced Dad that he could easily go with a few free days off work. At least according to her he's already got his paperwork covered for the rest of the year, at the very least – and Claire had seriously been not surprised at all to hear that –, and could graciously allow himself some extra time with Dean.

Claire's quite aware that Dad usually would've made a fuss about that. Missing work like that normally isn't his style at all.

But this time it's about Dean and Dad was so eager to comply and agree with Meg Claire couldn't help rolling her eyes in the background by the sheer obviousness. Her father apparently has no issues whatsoever to bend backwards for his old friend and he probably has no real idea why that truly is.

Moron.

So it's decided that Dean stays for an additional day or two and there is that. Dean apparently has no issue whatsoever himself to jump on the occasion.

When Monday morning arrives Claire finds herself climbing into Kaia's old Buick she got from her father to her sixteenth birthday a few months ago. Dad proposed to drive Claire to school nonetheless and save Kaia from any detour (because she actually lives in another part of town), but Kaia had been rather eager to pick Claire up and in the end Dad certainly didn't put up much of a fuss about it.

Claire shoots Kaia a bright smile as she drops into the passenger seat next to her and soon enough they're on their way to school right in the middle of the typical morning traffic.

“And?” Kaia finally prods after a long moment of silence. “How is sharing your house with your Dad's friend so far? You hadn't been exactly forthcoming this weekend.”

Claire can't help a wince. Before she had known who Dean really is she promised Kaia to send her all the updates and keep her in the loop about basically everything. But then she found out about Dean _Winchester_ living with them for the next couple of days and she couldn't just blurt that secret out into the world, so in the end she decided to stay evasive and avoid any further details.

“It's fine,” she mumbles, looking out of the window. “He's a nice guy. And Dad's very happy to have him around.”

None of it is a lie. But it still feels like one.

And Claire's chest clenches uncomfortably.

“So you think you were right?” Kaia asks, a chuckle in her voice. “You think your Dad's really got a crush on the guy?”

That's one of the things they had debated about passionately right before the weekend. Claire swore to send updates and even pictures to see her suspicions confirmed.

In the end she did none of that.

But still, she can't help a scoff at her question. “Oh boy, those two are so gone on each other,” she says, shaking her head in frustration. “And they're so dense. I have no idea how they're not able to pick up on that.”

It's right there in front of their noses. Dean incapable of taking his eyes off her father for a longer period of time. Dad always smiling at him and keen on being at his side constantly.

Claire's at least never seen her father act like that with anyone before.

“Perhaps you should nudge them in the right direction then,” Kaia proposes with a shrug. “After all, we both know that old men are criminally stupid. They wouldn't come far without people like us in their lives.”

Claire finds herself grinning at her. “Damn, you're amazing, you know that?”

The Novak trait of being blunt and blurting stuff out surely has been part of her life as well. Not as bad as with Jack or Dad, but living with those two idiots definitely rubbed off on her.

Thankfully Kaia never seems to mind. On the contrary, she beams in delight. “Right back at ya, Novak.”

And then she suddenly steers onto a random parking space right beside her, shuts off the car, leans over and presses a quick kiss onto Claire's lips. Just because she felt like it. Just because waiting five more minutes until reaching the school would've already been way too much.

Claire blushes, still highly overwhelmed by this very new thing, and yet so elated she barely knows what to do with herself.

And it helps her come to a decision she had been struggling with the whole weekend.

So therefore, as soon as they arrive at school, Claire quickly excuses herself and retreats to a quiet corner on the schoolyard to call her father.

“I wanna tell her,” she blurts instantly without further ado when she notices the phone on the other end of the line had been picked up.

“Um … what?” Dad asks, clearly confused by the unexpected onslaught. He sounds like he always does when he's wondering if he's missing something important.

“Kaia,” Claire elaborates. “I wanna tell her the truth about Dean.”

Her dad hesitates for a moment. “Claire …”

“She is trustworthy,” Claire hurries to make her point. “Way more than me, actually. She can keep a secret.”

“Claire …”

“And I mean, she is my girlfriend, I can't keep something that big from her,” Claire continues, words tumbling out of her mouth before she even knows what's happening. “Please don't make me keep secrets, that wouldn't be fair to her. To us. I don't wanna have that kind of relationship with her.”

For a long minute her father remains silent.

And then he starts to chuckle.

“So she is your girlfriend, huh?” he asks, amused. “When exactly did _that_ happen?”

Claire flushes. She totally forgot she hadn't really shared that very vital information with her family just yet.

“Um … about two weeks ago?”

She can't help her blush deepening as she remembers that sunny afternoon, Claire innocently eating some leftover sandwich while they were strolling through the park like one of those old cliché couples. She actually doesn't really know what ultimately made Kaia pull her behind some bushes and kiss her out of the blue, but Claire is surely beyond thrilled it happened.

“And why is this the first time I'm hearing of this?” Dad doesn't sound angry or disappointed. No, quite on the contrary, he appears rather entertained by the whole thing.

Meanwhile, Claire finds herself scoffing. “Why do you think, huh?” She shakes her head in exasperation. “You and Jack always tend to get so freaking annoying and embarrassing everything involving Kaia, so _of course_ I wasn't in any hurry to give you any more teasing material. And then suddenly Dean announced he would stay with us for a while and you got rendered completely useless for the rest of the week until his arrival. I could've told you I was declared Queen of England and you probably would've just nodded your head and continued to fuss over the color of the tiles in the bathroom.”

Dad clears his throat at that. “Well, fine, you might have a point …”

“Besides,” Claire adds, “out of the both of us _I'm_ certainly not the one who has to apologize for keeping some things to myself for only two weeks, don't you agree?”

He makes a strangled noise, obviously realizing he's so not on the high ground here right now. “Okay, _fine_ –”

“So yes, Kaia is my girlfriend,” Claire says out loud, feeling something giddy inside her chest at the term. “And she's asking all these questions about Dean now because we talked about him visiting before I even knew it's _Dean Winchester_ and now I have no clue what to say. I don't wanna lie to her, but I can't avoid her forever either. She'll know that something is up.”

All in all it would be a bad way to start a relationship. And Claire had been hoping way too much for this to see it crumble only because of this.

“You're right, I'm sorry,” her dad immediately says. “That wouldn't be fair – I mean – _Dean_?”

There is some shuffling on the other end of the line and two voices talking, Dad obviously bringing Dean up to speed about this new development, and before she even knows it Dean's voice suddenly pipes up. “Hey, Claire.”

Claire, despite herself, can't keep herself from grinning stupidly. It's still way too surreal to talk with _Dean Freaking Winchester_ , have him stay in her house and see him act around her all natural and familiar.

“Hey, Dean,” she answers, quite proud of herself for not giggling. “Dad told you what's up?”

“He did,” he confirms. “And I'm sorry I got you in such a position in the first place. I didn't mean to stir up any trouble.”

“It's not your fault,” she hurries to make herself clear. “I just … you're okay with me telling Kaia about you? I promise she wouldn't tell a single soul. She doesn't even have _twitter_ or _instagram_ or whatever. She only calls such things 'a giant waste of her time'.”

Dean laughs at that good-naturedly. “Damn, that sounds like my kind of girl.”

“Oh please,” her dad's voice suddenly jumps in and by the way it's just as clear and audible as Dean's Claire concludes that they must have switched to speaker phone at some point.

“What?” Dean asks, definitely glancing at her dad with _that look_ again. “You think I'd bother with all those social media sites if I wouldn't have to? Like seriously, Cas, give me some credit here.” He sighs rather melodramatically. “Believe me, if I were just a regular Joe, just some simple little mechanic in a remote town, the only thing I'd use the internet for were cooking blogs and … um, some special interests, I guess. I wouldn't have the patience for _twitter_ and Co.”

Dad mumbles something in response which makes Dean laugh _that laugh_ again and Claire seriously has no damned clue how those two don't see the unique bond they have.

Idiots.

“Well, Claire, in the end this is seriously not my decision here,” Dean eventually turns back to the conversation at hand. “After all, all _your_ lives would be turned upside down if the press would get wind of me being here. My life is already crazy at it is, it wouldn't make much of a difference for me.”

He does have a point, Claire has to admit. Dean is used to the media following every single one of his steps. This issue right now is about herself. And it's about her father and her brother. About the fact that they would like to continue their existence in relative peace.

“So the question is, do you trust Kaia enough?” Dean wonders.

 _Do you trust her enough not to disrupt your family's normal life_ , he doesn't say.

And Claire doesn't even hesitate to answer, “Yes, I do.”

And that's how it comes that at their next break Claire drags Kaia to that very same corner again, away from any curious ears, and tells her the whole thing. She talks and talks and talks, disclosing every single detail she can think of, while Kaia merely looks at her with an expression that's impossible to read.

“So,” Kaia eventually says when Claire's finally finished and takes a very deep breath to fill up the oxygen in her lungs, “Dean Winchester is in your house right now? Am I getting that right?”

Her tone is teasing which is not at all surprising considering Claire used Dean's full name at least fifty times in the last ten minutes alone.

Claire can't help grimacing. “Yep.”

“So he's that old childhood friend of your dad's?”

“Yep.”

For a while Kaia only studies her intently, as though she's trying to figure out a very complicated puzzle.

And in the end she wonders, “So does that mean your father is …?”

Claire winces some more. “Yep, he's the _Mystery Crush_.”

Kaia cocks her head to one side, obviously mulling this over fairly thoroughly in her head. “Well, it makes sense,” she concludes finally. “Your father has the bluest eyes in the history of the world, it's ridiculous. I should've known the second Dean talked about them in that interview.”

Claire actually has no idea what she's supposed to do with her girlfriend remaining so freaking calm about it all. “So … you're not freaking out or anything?”

Kaia presses her lips into a thin line and gives that question some serious thoughts, so it appears. “Well … I'm not exactly sure yet. I guess … not really?”

She makes some vague hand gesture that could mean about anything.

“If you wanna scream your head off in peace, I'd be happy to leave you alone for a while,” Claire offers with a weak smile.

Kaia only rolls her eyes at her. “Don't be stupid,” she chides. “In the end he's just a guy like everyone else, right? And it's not like I've been a fan of his in the first place or anything. I mean, don't get me wrong, he's got talent and everything, but he's not really starring in my kind of movies.” She shrugs casually. “I've never thought much about him, to be frank.”

Claire stares at her in confusion. “But you wanted to watch his newest movie so badly the other day. You mentioned it constantly for about a week before I agreed to go with you.”

Kaia raises her brows at her, for a minute absolutely quiet as she lets the atmosphere around them get charged. And then she laughs, loud and happy.

“Oh my God, you're such a dumbo sometimes.” She gazes at Claire with so much affection Claire finds herself unable to function properly. “I actually didn't care about the movie. I just knew you were a fan of his and I wanted to spend time with you. It could've been a five-hour documentary of grass growing in absolute silence and I still would've been thrilled to watch it with you.”

Claire lowers her head as she feels her face getting redder than a tomato.

“Um … so, you …?”

Kaia smirks. “I just wanted to go on a date with a pretty girl. That's all.”

Claire shoots a look over her shoulder, making sure that no one is around in their vicinity, before she leans in and presses a soft kiss onto Kaia's lips.

“So you wanna meet him?” Claire wonders, their faces still very close.

“Dean?”

Claire scoffs. “Yeah. Who else?”

Kaia blinks a few times. “I dunno. I haven't even met your father yet. I think one baby step at a time. After all, it doesn't seem like Dean will be staying at your house for the last time, am I right?”

Claire is only able to frown at her. “What are you talking about? You've met my dad before.”

“But not as your girlfriend,” Kaia points out. “That's something completely different. I need to reintroduce myself and all. And I think it'd be wise to do that one step after another. Having Dean there as well would be quite the overkill for me.”

Claire still feels lost. “But what's that got to do with Dean? He's not my dad.”

“Not _yet_.”

Claire blinks.

Her first reaction is to snort because it sounds seriously absurd to even consider. But then suddenly she recalls her dad and Dean, just looking and smiling at each other the entire time like a pair of love-struck teenagers, and she gasps in utter shock.

“ _Oh my God_!” she exclaims, her eyes wide. “Dean Winchester could very well become my dad someday, couldn't he? _HOLY CRAP_!”

Kaia laughs.

And laughs.

And keeps on laughing for the rest of their school day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to admit this was lots of fun to write and this will definitely not be the last time with some outsider POV!
> 
> Claire and Jack might get another shot, Sam will certainly have his turn at some point, and maybe others like Charlie or Benny will take over for a short while too ;D It might get entertaining stirring things up a bit!
> 
> For now, though, I hope you enjoyed Jack's refreshingly blunt “I-don't-understand-why-adults-have-to-make-everything-so-complicated” attitude and Claire being quite captivated by her awesome girlfriend xDD
> 
> Until next time then!


	23. Parenting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, is it Tuesday again??
> 
> Where does the time go?
> 
> Well …
> 
> I guess then it's time for a new chapter, huh? ;)
> 
> And if the following words turn out to be utter nonsense please blame this atrocious heatwave for this, my brain is on 2% capacity for almost a week now >.<
> 
> -

Dean actually never planned to stay longer than Sunday.

But when Meg very unsubtly suggested that Cas should just take a few extra days off Dean had been quick to agree (after all, he could spare a day or two himself) and now they're here, on a Monday morning after a huge breakfast and a heated debate about Cas' poor music taste, sitting in the living room and just enjoying each other's company.

Soon enough, however, they're reminded that Dean actually wasn't supposed to be in Lawrence anymore.

“It's Monday,” Cas suddenly announces to the previous silent room as he stares at a text on his phone.

Dean, who had been shooting a few messages to Benny for about twenty minutes now discussing some future appointments, raises his head at that proclamation and looks at his friend with arched eyebrows. “Well, yes, it's Monday,” he agrees. “Stellar observation, Cas.”

Cas snorts. “I'm just saying, I didn't expect you to still be here.”

Dean frowns at him in confusion. “You want me to go or what?”

“No, of course not,” he counters right away, the mere notion absolutely absurd apparently. “It's just – you remember Becky Rosen?”

Dean feels a little bell ringing in his head hearing that name, but the last few days had been so intense he's not sure he can trust himself at the moment. “Uuuhhh …”

“We met her a few days ago,” Cas explains. “Remember the parking lot? The grocery store?”

Oh yeah, right.

“That woman who thinks my name is Mike?” Dean makes sure nonetheless.

Cas nods in confirmation. “I actually never told you why she approached me in the first place, have I?”

Dean furrows his brows. Thinking about it now Cas indeed never mentioned that. He only relied “Mike's” backstory with so much enthusiasm and passion Dean never considered asking further questions about anything else.

“What did she want then?” he wonders.

“A babysitter,” Cas says. “Her mother's got an important doctor's appointment and she needs someone to watch her youngest daughter. Apparently everything went down pretty spontaneously and now her husband is otherwise engaged during that time. I think their oldest son has some soccer match on the other side of town and Rod, her husband, would just have enough time after work to pick him and some of his teammates up from a friend's place and drive them there. At least I believe that's what Becky told me, she was rambling a lot.”

Dean chuckles. He didn't overhear any details or something, but he certainly noticed that woman speaking at an impressive speed.

“Either way, she doesn't want to drag her daughter to that doctor's appointment if she doesn't have to,” Cas continues. “This could very well take a while. And sitting with a baby in a waiting room for half an eternity is never fun, so I can certainly understand her reasoning.”

Dean finds himself smiling. “So we're having a baby over today, is that it?”

Cas sighs. “When I offered to help out I had no idea you would stay longer than anticipated. I figured you'd be on your way back to New York by now.”

He actually looks like he putting a huge burden onto Dean's shoulders and Dean can't help laughing at that.

“Dude, it's okay,” he says. “I'd love to have little Lily around.”

Cas hesitates. “You really wouldn't mind?”

“Babies love me, man,” Dean states with a wide grin. “She'll be charmed by me and forget you ever existed.”

Cas squints his eyes. “Only you could make a competition out of this.”

Dean's smirk only widens. “I aim to please, honey.”

Cas doesn't even deem that with an answer, just scoffs right into his face before turning toward his phone again and beginning to type a rather long text for Becky.

“I'm going to have to inform her that you're still here,” he explains. “And that there might be a slight chance – and by 'slight' I naturally mean 'definite' – that she won't meet you because inconveniently you will be in town and running some errands right when she's due to bring over Lily.”

“Truly inconvenient,” Dean agrees.

“I don't like doing it,” Cas says with a frown. “I know as a parent you generally don't feel comfortable leaving your children with someone you never met.”

“Dude, she's leaving the kid _with you_ ,” Dean reminds him. “I'm pretty sure she'll trust you to take care of her. At least I would in her situation.”

Without any question. Even if Cas had dozens of strangers with him. He'd trust Cas' judgment completely.

“I'm still going to warn her,” Cas points out.

But when just a few minutes later a text arrives telling him that Becky is very much okay with it the whole thing is decided.

They're gonna have a baby over for the day.

  
  


\---

  
  


It's only a few hours later when the doorbell rings.

Of course Dean stays out of sight as Cas goes to greet Becky and her daughter, but he clearly hears her voice transported throughout the house. Becky's lungs and vocal cords obviously have the capacity to reach even the furthest corners, it seems, and he seriously doesn't envy her kids for having to deal with that every time they mess things up. It's never fun when your entire neighborhood learns about your insolence in such a loud fashion.

This time, though, Becky already seems in a hurry – not surprising considering she actually meant to be here over twenty minutes ago, but probably ended up being delayed by the very baby she's about to entrust Cas for safe-keeping, Dean assumes – and after giving Cas fairly detailed and quite rushed instructions about how to handle Lily (even though Cas looked after her in the past a few times already) she's off with a hasty goodbye.

Just a couple of moments later Cas joins Dean in the living room, a big bag slung over one shoulder and a little girl with the most adorable blonde curls balancing on his other arm.

Dean immediately feels something warm blooming in his chest. He's always had a great connection with kids and he's actually quite bumped about the fact that he barely got any opportunity to spend some time with them.

“Hey, you must be Lily,” he says, beaming at the girl in Cas' arms and hoping that he's coming across as nice and kind rather than weird and creepy. “It's great to meet you.”

The girl blinks at him, obviously startled by the stranger in the room.

On first instinct she presses a little closer to Cas, looking for comfort with the most familiar person available right now, and starts to fuss slightly, clearly not really sure what to make of the situation. But she's obviously got enough natural curiosity to assess the man on the couch from a safe distance and with Cas' calm presence to put her at ease.

Dean tries to appear as nonthreatening as possible while she makes up her mind about him. He smiles at her, wide and open and genuine, and hopes that might be enough for her to at least not burst into tears.

Lily blinks at him a couple of times more.

And then, all of a sudden, she starts to giggle.

She giggles and giggles as she points her little hand at him and garbles incoherent words into Cas' ear, apparently eager to share her excitement with him. Cas stays patient and amused, even as she begins to tug at his hair in a rather forceful manner.

“Yes, yes, I know,” he says calmly. “That's Dean, you're totally right.”

Dean can't help a grin. “You told her about me before?”

“Not really, no,” Cas objects. “But I think she might recognize you. To a certain degree, at least.”

Dean arches a brow. “What do you mean?”

“Well, her mother is a huge fan of your work,” Cas explains with a smirk on his lips. “I'm sure little Lily caught up a lot of that. You're probably even more familiar to her than me at this point.”

Dean stares at his friend for a moment and has no clue whether he should take that seriously or not.

“You're kidding, right?” he asks with a scoff. “I don't think babies can … I mean, can they? …”

“Don't worry, I hardly believe she will tell her mother about your visit here,” Cas assures with a chuckle.

Dean blinks a few times as he looks at the giddy baby in Cas' arms, bouncing up and down. She actually seems like she knows him so well she's over the moon to see him here.

And yet …

“You're joking, aren't you?” Dean asks, assessing Cas with every ounce of suspicion he's able to muster. “I mean, you're seriously not telling me babies are capable to recognize me due to … I dunno, my movies or seeing me on some BluRay cases? That's absurd, Cas.”

Cas studies him with an open look. “Are you sure?”

Dean can't help hesitating. “Uuuhhh …”

“Because let me tell you, children are so much more perceptive than most adults give them credit for,” Cas explains patiently.

Dean blinks some more. “So …?”

Might it actually be possible? Did little Lily watch some of his movies with her mom and now she's able to tell who he is? At least to a certain degree?

Cas, meanwhile, keeps on looking at him with a perfectly blank expression. But when he eventually turns his head around a little Dean spots an amused smile flashing over his lips.

“Oh c'mon, dude, you're joking!” he growls. “Don't screw with me!”

Cas simply drops Lily's bag next to the couch and starts to walk toward the kitchen, not even glancing into Dean's direction.

Dean finds himself grumbling. “C'mon, Cas, tell me! Are you kidding or not??”

He only receives delighted laughter in response.

  
  


\---

  
  


For the most part Lily is quite an easy-going child.

She seems fascinated by everything, is easily distracted the few times she obviously considered crying and babbles her head off. It's criminally cute, Dean has to confess, and he finds himself listening to her rather attentively, always grinning when between all the gibberish there is actually a proper English word. And it doesn't take long for him to actually engage in conversation with her. It's complete nonsense, he knows that, but it's really fun and also, if he remembers correctly, rather good for her speech development, so he honestly doesn't see any harm in indulging her.

Cas appears more than happy to let them be, just sitting cross-legged on the living room's floor with Lily on his lap and watching them converse about the most idiotic things with a soft smile on his face.

“Do you think you'd ever do this again?” Dean finds himself asking at some point when Lily's attention got gripped by another toy again. He actually had no intention to blurt his traitorous thoughts out like this, but seeing Cas so gentle with a baby obviously compromised his upper brain functions so highly he has no control over his mouth whatsoever anymore.

Cas raises his gaze at the question. “What do you mean?”

Dean chews on his bottom lip. A part of himself is just desperate to wave this off as quickly as possible and change the topic without ever looking back. But there is a urge inside of him, so powerful and invincible, that just _needs_ to know the answer.

“Um, parenting,” Dean explains. “Could you … I mean, would you ever consider doing it again? If you were to be remarried or whatever?”

Dean winces at how unsteady his voice sounds. So awkward and weird that even a guy like Cas will catch up on that.

Thankfully Cas seems way too surprised by that question in general to care about Dean's inelegant fumbling. It looks like nobody has ever asked him that before and for a moment he stays both stunned and silent, taking his time to process the entire thing.

And then he blinks and says, “Yes.”

He sounds astonished about his own reply. But he doesn't back down after saying it out loud.

Dean can't help leaning in. “You would?”

Cas smiles. “Raising Claire and Jack, it's still the most amazing experience,” he says. “And I don't know if I were ever to marry again or at least find another partner serious enough to dare such an endeavor with – but yes, if the opportunity would present itself, I would do it all over again. In a heartbeat.”

Dean has no idea why his pulse is suddenly skyrocketing, but it sure as hell is.

“What about you?” Cas wonders. “Do you want children?”

His gaze is open and curious and for a second Dean totally forgets how speech even works.

“Um,” he mutters, finding himself blushing slightly at his own incapacity. “Well … I guess I wouldn't mind.”

Cas smiles easily at him.

“Yeah,” Dean adds, a small tremor in his tone. “I guess I seriously wouldn't mind a football team of little rugrats.”

Cas laughs. “Ambitious.”

Dean merely shrugs. “You know me. I don't do anything by half.”

Cas simply looks at him and there is not even a hint of surprise in his features. It's obvious he already knew what Dean would say before he even had a chance to make up his mind himself.

“You've always been a family man,” Cas states. “And you're gonna be an amazing father.”

Dean flushes so furiously he instantly ducks his head and turns his attention back to Lily in the hopes of Castiel not noticing.

But as he dares to catch a glance a few minutes later he registers Cas still gazing at him with a fond expression and it sends his stomach into a series of somersaults so intense he almost doubles over.

 _Damn_.

  
  


\---

  
  


Their time with Lily is over much faster than Dean thought and for the rest of the day he stays in a very weird gloom.

He can't really tell what it is. Granted, the thought of having his own family someday surely crossed his mind occasionally, but it's never been an overly prominent one. At least his biological clock never started to ring excessively and so he figured he had all the time in world and would just wait and see how things would pan out.

But now the picture got stuck in his head. Spending time with little Lily and also of course Jack and Claire obviously awoke something in him he actually had no idea was there to begin with. Before family had been nice in theory, and now all of a sudden it appears _very_ nice not only in theory but an actual outcome for his hopefully not so distant future.

The rest of the day he spends mostly watching Claire and Jack and their interactions with each other. Yes, they're typical siblings and more often than not he sees something of himself and Sam in their dynamic and the way they talk with each other. But other times he feels something different. He thinks about teaching Jack baseball and sharing some tea with Claire early in the morning and hearing Lily babble excitedly into his ear.

It's a weird sensation. And a rather strong one.

And when he catches himself glancing at Cas in those moment and noticing the feeling only growing stronger, he forces himself not to mull this over too closely.

It might only lead to false hope.

  
  


\---

  
  


Soon enough Tuesday arrives and Dean can't postpone his departure any longer.

He would have loved to stay a few extra days (or perhaps even forever), but there are some important people Dean has to talk to about an upcoming charity event he's hosting and he can't let them down. So back to New York it is.

He already said his goodbyes to Claire and Jack before school. Jack hugged him tightly and told him excitedly that he had every intention of impressing his teacher and classmates with his new baseball skills. Claire pulled him into an embrace as well, the hesitation from the beginning obviously melted into nothing. She seems relaxed, as though she bids farewell to an old friend and not an unattainable Hollywood star, and Dean smiles happily at the change. And then in the next moment he finds himself blushing when she tells him with a wicked smirk not to forget to give her father a goodbye kiss before he leaves.

Cas decided to stay at home an extra day and see Dean out of the door without any rush. He helps Dean to pack his stuff and not to forget anything that found itself scattered across the house at some point, before dragging him into the kitchen and making him the biggest breakfast to know Dean well fed the whole way back home.

Scrambled eggs, bacon, fruit, juice, some bread – Dean feels so spoiled he barely knows what to say and hastily digs in before he blurts out something super embarrassing.

Soon enough, however, they stand outside in the driveway, the Impala more than ready to hit the streets again. Usually Dean would've looked forward to it, just him and Baby and the open road, but now he's reluctant to even glance at her. Because walking towards her means saying goodbye to Lawrence, to Cas, to this quiet life of normalcy.

And for a moment it appears way too much.

So he has to make sure to set some future plans and not leave anything hang out in the open. “So …” he says, smooth as ever. “Summer break is around the corner, isn't it?”

Cas smiles at the reminder. “Yes, it is. I love my job, no question about it, but a little break does all of us some good.”

Dean can't help squirming a little. “You mind … coming over to my place at some point? I mean, with all that extra time on your hands and everything.”

Cas chuckles, apparently quite amused by Dean being so awkward about this. The bastard.

“Oh my, I guess I wouldn't mind,” he teases.

Dean huffs. “Claire and Jack are invited too, of course.”

“Claire and Jack will be with their mother in Canada for most of the break,” Cas reminds him. “Their annual retreat into the deep wilderness.”

Right.

Dean nods as he remembers how Cas told him about that agreement before. And even though his relationship with Daphne seems still a bit strained because of that debacle with the letter Cas would never deprive his children of this obviously beloved experience.

“Seems like it would only be me,” Cas points out. “I hope that's okay.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “I guess I'll just have to survive.”

Truth be told, he cares for the kids a great deal, but having some uninterrupted alone time with Cas sounds like Heaven.

“I've got some commitments the next few weeks,” Dean tells him. “But my August looks very good. You could come over for a week. Or two. Or three. Or whatever.”

August is still about three months away, but it's better than having nothing to hold on to.

Cas, at least, smiles at his enthusiasm. “Well, Claire and Jack will be back by the middle of August, so of course I have to be home for that,” he explains. “But the first two weeks in August before that? I could make that happen.”

Dean grins brightly. Two whole weeks sounds like a dream. Perhaps he'll even manage to convince Benny to move a few appointments and gain a couple of extra days or even a whole week.

Dean at least reminds himself to make this his top priority as soon as he's back home.

He heaves a deep sigh. The prospect of them seeing each other again in the not so far away future makes the whole process of saying goodbye right now at least a little more bearable.

It still sucks, though.

However, he puts his cheery face on as he pulls Cas into a tight hug. There is no need to look like a kicked puppy.

“I'm going to miss having you around,” Cas says as he presses himself closer to Dean, absolutely shamelessly ignoring all personal space rules. “You're not that awful of a house guest.”

Dean can't help a snort. “Wow, dude, thanks for the praise.”

Truth be told, though, he's gonna miss all of this, too. Not just Cas' company but also his kids and the entire domesticity of the entire situation. Outside of his family he has no real opportunity to just act like a regular guy with regular joys and regular problems and it's been nice to simply be like that for the last few days.

He takes a deep breath, inhales Cas' by now familiar scent and can't help feeling both wistful and glad. And before he even knows it Claire's advice about a goodbye kiss crosses his mind and he finds himself pressing his lips onto the top of Cas' hair quick enough to not give himself any opportunity to talk himself out of it.

It's brief and gentle and, considering the fact that Cas doesn't react in any way to it, obviously undetectable and for a long moment Dean wonders if he should be a bit more braver. Drop a kiss onto Cas' temple. His forehead. Or maybe even let their lips meet and, after a second of stunned silence, hopefully make out like teenagers right here in the driveway.

Sure, it sounds like a dream, but this is how most good things start, right?

Before he's able to make up his mind, though, Cas pulls back again, absolutely oblivious to Dean's inner turmoil as he happily chats about something Dean's brain is incapable of catching at this point. So he only nods dumbly and mourns the loss of contact.

And just a few minutes later it's only Dean, Baby and the open road again and the entire long way to New York he has to constantly fight the strong urge to drive back to Lawrence again.

It seems the next couple of months will be a non-stop struggle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sighs in frustration*
> 
> Look at them! Already talking about KIDS and everything and they're still too dense to notice anything >.<
> 
> Men are seriously useless sometimes, aren't they?
> 
> Well, some time apart might actually do them some good and also give a few people in their lives the opportunity to set their heads straight ;D And don't worry, Dean and Cas will be back with each other pretty soon again :)
> 
> Until next time then, my friends!


	24. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *jumps out of a hidden corner*
> 
> Surprise, surprise, we're a bit early today!!
> 
> But since my mom is coming over after my late shift tonight and will stay until tomorrow I'm barely gonna find any opportunity to squeeze some time in to fire up my laptop and post the new chapter. So I figured I'm just gonna upload it early before going to work for a change :D
> 
> But I'm sure you don't really mind, do you? ;)
> 
> -

The rest of the week feels kinda weird to Dean.

After spending his time with Cas and his kids in that domestic bubble coming back to a life of stardom seems quite the adjustment. Even though it's only been a couple of days with the Novaks he suddenly feels a bit overwhelmed by people wanting him around, people gazing adoringly at him, people craving his attention and showering him with praise.

Yeah, it's a bit odd.

But Dean has always been adaptable and soon enough he is occupied by all the preparations for the upcoming charity event this weekend he's been hosting and sponsoring with a few other actor colleagues to raise awareness for several youth projects that support kids in need all over the country. Over the years this turned into a case close to Dean's heart (especially after meeting people like Sonny who dedicate their entire lives to help children who have no one else in their lives) and he feels determined to see the evening become a major success and collect lots of money from all the rich people Benny hadn't been shy to invite. Apparently plastering Dean's name onto an invitation truly helps luring people out of their shells.

And in the end it feels like no time at all has passed when Saturday night finally arrives.

To Dean's great satisfaction the place is packed more or less right from the start and he surely doesn't mind that everyone seems to be eager to get a piece of him. He saunters through the big hall and chats with people and convinces them to donate their money just by shooting them a dazzling smile and turning his charm on full blast.

And that goes on for almost an hour.

Until Dean suddenly catches sight of Leslie Marks.

The woman who asked him the seemingly innocent enough question about childhood crushes right in front of a massive audience many months ago, unwittingly causing a huge storm that hasn't faded yet.

Rationally speaking Dean totally knew she'd be here – after all, she's _always_ at those kinds of events, both to get the newest gossip as well as donating a large sum to the cause (even though she never makes a big deal of promoting that but rather stays in the background for that) –, but Dean can't help pausing for a moment. He recalls the last time they saw each other in her late night show and how that interview changed his life.

And he can't help remembering his conversation with Cas, right before everything with Daphne and the letter came to light and anything else was suddenly forgotten. How Cas argued that Dean's fans just had to learn that they're back in contact again and not just let them keep on speculating on _DeanWatch_ for years and years to come.

An uncomfortable sensation settles in Dean's stomach at the mere possibility of sharing Cas with the rest of the world. A childish part of himself insists that this is _his_ life and he has the right to do whatever the hell he wants to do with it, thank you very much.

And of course that's true and nobody would force him to reveal anything, especially not Cas, but on the other side he can't keep himself from feeling a bit guilty as well. His fans have been at his side for such a long time now and they deserve to learn _something_. Not their entire story, naturally, because that's seriously only Dean's and his alone, but perhaps Cas is right. A few bread crumbs surely won't hurt him.

And so he finds himself gravitating toward Leslie without a second thought.

Today she's not here as a journalist and talk show host but as a guest, so there's no camera crew with her and not even a recording device in her hand. If Dean wanted to get his story out as soon as possible he could easily turn back to all those reporters lining up at the entrance and tell one of them. It would take no time at all to spread the news.

But it's been Leslie who started it all and Dean can't imagine opening up to anybody else about this.

“Dean, hello,” Leslie says with the widest smile as she notices him approaching. She's just been talking with an important looking guy, but she instantly turns away from him at Dean's arrival, apparently relieved by the welcome distraction. “How are you?”

It's an innocent enough question, but Dean knows out of experience that you still have to be careful about what you tell Leslie Marks. It might show up in the news bulletin much faster than you'd ever imagine.

For a change, though, that's exactly what Dean is hoping for.

“Hey Leslie,” he greets her with his most charming grin. “You know anyone around here who might be interested in some exclusive rights to a new story?”

Leslie instantly perks up at those words. “How exclusive?”

Dean smirks. “Very.”

Leslie's entire demeanor changes significantly hearing that. Just a second ago she seemed like an angel in her elegant cream dress, full of songs and compassion and harp plays, and now she's turning into a predator sniffing out its newest prey. It would be rather terrifying if Dean wouldn't already be used to it at this point.

So he doesn't even flinch when she suddenly grabs him by the arm and leads him aside to a secluded room. It seems to be a small studio, nothing much, but Dean can't help wondering how she knows this place. Either she drags a lot of celebrities in here to get her stories or she uses this spot for some other purpose Dean isn't really sure he wants to think about.

“You don't wait around, huh?” Dean points out with a chuckle. “I could've come over to your office tomorrow.”

“Are you mad?” Leslie scoffs at him as she pulls her phone out of her handbag. “I can't wait until that. You might change your mind in the meantime. Or get so stupidly drunk here that you spill your beans to another reporter.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “When have I _ever_ done that?”

“I can't take any chances,” Leslie insists as she simultaneously fumbles with the recording function on her phone. “And I really hope your exciting story is about what I think it is and not about you buying yourself a new pair of sneakers or whatever –”

“Be honest, Leslie, you'd even manage to make a story of me buying some shoes into an international sensation,” Dean says.

Leslie huffs as she places her phone onto the small table next to her and pushes Dean into the armchair right next to it. “Oh please, that wouldn't be all that hard. _Everything_ you do is an international sensation.”

Dean seriously would've liked to contradict her statement, but unfortunately she is kinda right. And Dean finds himself wondering once more what his life has become.

“So, what is this about?” Leslie asks, leaning closer as though looking for answers in Dean's eyes.

“It's about _DeanWatch_ ,” he explains and immediately sees her shoulders sag, obviously disappointed by that statement, “… and the fact that they have been right about my recent whereabouts.”

Her interest is immediately piqued once again.

Probably due to the fact that she always keeps up-to-date with everything and knows very well where the people of that website assumed Dean to be for the last week.

“So you're saying …?”

Dean nods. “Yeah. I've been with Steve.”

Leslie frowns right away, most likely seeing through his bullshit without any problem whatsoever. “Really? _Steve_?”

Dean grins as he thinks about Cas calling him Mike because there are so many Mikes in this world.

“Well, what can I say?” He shrugs. “Everyone knows a Steve, right?”

He sure as hell won't reveal Cas' real name to the press, but he has no intention at all to refer to him as _Mystery Crush_ in any way either. He'd rather drive Baby off a cliff and stay inside with her than ever using that godforsaken term.

“So … you and Steve …?” Leslie scoots closer, her eyes glinting as she sniffs out the story of her life. Or whatever. “How did that come to pass? The last time we spoke about him – well, it sounded like you hadn't talked with each other for a while.”

“Over twenty years, yes,” Dean agrees. “But after Steve saw that interview he reached out to me again.”

Leslie looks like she is on the brink of crying out of pure joy.

“So I guess I have to thank you for that,” Dean points out. “Because that idiot believed I had forgotten about him and therefore never tried to reconnect. After that interview, though, he was proven wrong.”

Leslie chews on her bottom lip, clearly trying to contain herself to not blurt thousand different questions into his face at once. “Over the last few months there have been a lot of speculations. People saying you looked happier than ever before. Pictures of you being constantly on your phone – texting and calling – and being so engrossed with the person on the other end of the line you barely noticed what was going on around you. Of course there immediately had been rumors, especially so shortly after the interview.”

Dean shoots her lopsided smile. “Are you asking me if I was talking with Steve then?”

Leslie studies him intently. “Well, if you're ready to share that information …”

Dean can't help a huff as he thinks about all the photos of him being utterly distracted popping up in the last couple of months.

“Of course I can't make a general statement here,” he says diplomatically, “but I've been talking with Steve quite a lot, yeah. It might be possible that I was doing that the moment some of those pics were taken.”

There is actually a quite high chance on that, but he refrains from pointing that out. Leslie already looks like Christmas and Easter arrived on the same day.

“Okay, listen, Leslie, you know me,” Dean adds with a chuckle. “You know I won't give you any details about my personal life. Steve and I just thought my fans have a right to know that we're back in contact again, considering how invested they became in all of this. But I'm not gonna reveal his address or even his real name and we're both quite aware I never will, no matter how many questions you'll ask.”

Leslie surely doesn't seem surprised by that statement. On the contrary. “I'm actually shocked that you even said anything about this in the first place. Especially since you refused to utter one single word about the whole affair for months now.”

Dean shrugs his shoulders. “I guess you have Steve to thank for that. He convinced me to be a bit more open.”

Leslie smirks. “Looks like he's already a good influence on you.”

In his attempt not to smile like a doofus Dean merely rolls his eyes and forces himself not to envision Cas right in front of his inner eyes. “Ha-hardy-ha.”

“I'm just saying –”

“Okay, how about I'll tell you now a bit about all the amazing youth projects we're raising awareness for tonight?” Dean suggests. “After all, that's why we're here, right?”

He already spoke about it in great detail with all the reporters exclusively invited to this event, but it can't hurt to add one more to the list. Particularly because he knows Leslie personally cares about this just as much as he does.

“Okay, fine, you good Samaritan,” she says, waving him off good-naturedly. “Let's help some kids.”

Dean couldn't agree more. But first there is something he needs to get off his chest first.

“Leslie?”

“Yes?”

He grins. “Thank you. For, y'know.”

_For bringing Cas back into my life._

Leslie smiles in response, obviously knowing fairly well what he's trying to say. “You're welcome, dear.”

  
  


\---

  
  


“Hey Dad, you're on the news again!”

Claire's voice carries throughout the entire house and actually makes Castiel flinch so hard he almost drops the entire box of eggs in his hands onto the ground. Thankfully he manages to avert such a fate in the very last second and he breathes a sigh of relief because he had been _seriously_ craving some scrambled eggs for breakfast and depriving him of his preferred food would have only resulted in him going through this wonderfully sunny Sunday all cranky and Claire eventually ending up disinherited because of such an unforgivable crime.

Nobody would've been happy about any of that.

“Claire, how about a moderate volume in the house?” Castiel exclaims, knowing fairly well that actually _shouting_ that advice through the hallway is all kinds of counterproductive but being unable to help himself. “It's early in the morning and everything.”

Claire appears on the doorway just a few seconds later, already dressed and ready to tackle the day. “Who cares? I knew you were awake.”

“And what about Jack?” Castiel reminds her.

She huffs. “He'll survive.”

“That doesn't mean –”

“Yeah, yeah,” Claire waves him off quickly, obviously not in the mood for any parental lectures at this hour. “Didn't you hear what I was trying to tell you?”

“ _All_ of Lawrence could hear –”

“ _Oh my God_!” Claire groans and rolls her eyes very dramatically. A trait she learned from her father, unfortunately. “I'm telling you you're on the news and you're getting picky on me.”

Castiel blinks. “I'm on the news?”

“Yeah.”

He finds himself squeezing his eyes in actual pain. “Oh dear Lord, did someone let a horde of possums into the school again? Did they ravish my office and eat my chair?”

Claire laughs loudly at the reminder. “Damn, that was golden.”

“It was _not_ –”

“Don't worry, Dad, this time you're just on the international news. No possums involved.”

For a split moment he feels the absolutely absurd urge to sag his shoulders in relief and send a grateful prayer to any deity who might be willing to listen. But then Claire's words finally reach his brain and he finds himself frowning in confusion instead.

“What are you talking about?”

Instead of an answer Claire just shoves her phone under his nose, some webpage open on the screen. And the major red headline is certainly hard to miss.

“ _Dean Winchester and his Mystery Crush finally reunited after all these years!”_

Castiel stares at it with wide eyes and at first thousand wild thoughts are tumbling through his mind in a matter of milliseconds, one more panicky than the other. He imagines that someone had spotted Dean with him in the few days he stayed here, perhaps at the grocery store or Castiel's driveway fixing the car or maybe simply as Dean stood too closely to the window and somebody caught sight of him from the outside just by pure accident. Or possible a talented hacker managed to crack Dean's phone and read all their private messages, their intimate conversations, their –

“You should just read the article before freaking out,” Claire suggests with an eye-roll. “Because nobody will show up on our doorstep today and demand an interview, you know?”

Right. Read the article first.

Good idea.

Castiel goes right to it, squinting his eyes due to the small letters on the phone's screen.

“ _Fans have suspected it for a very long while already, but now it's finally official: Dean Winchester is back in contact with his 'Mystery Crush'._

_Last night in an exclusive, spur-of-the-moment hour of truth he admitted to having gotten back into touch with his old childhood friend. After the interview that shook the entire nation Steve apparently realized that he hadn't been forgotten by Dean as he always had assumed before and decided to reach out to him._

_Steve – a pseudonym Dean chose for him; we just assume it's because that guy is as hot as Captain America – has been a steady constant in Dean's life from then on and might be the main reason why our most beloved Hollywood star seems so particular cheery lately. At least a lot of people close to him has been noticing the change in him for months now (we reported about that before) and this revelation seems to be a confirmation we all already had been well aware of._

_Unfortunately, but not all that surprising, Dean hadn't been rather forthcoming about anything else. So far we can only speculate who Steve is, where he lives, what he does, what his life looks like, how often he and Dean communicate, how many times they have been with each other in person since their reunion. We only know that Dean's smile appears to be a bit more brighter than usual and we impatiently wait to learn more about this most exciting turn of events [...]”_

Castiel blinks at the short article, not really sure what to think about it. Eventually he finds himself frowning and glances back at Claire. “Who is Captain America?”

Claire meets his gaze with all the incredulousness she's able to muster. “ _That_ is your most important take from this?”

Castiel shrugs nonchalantly. “I'd just like to know who I'm being compared with.”

Claire scoffs and keeps on muttering underneath her breath what a colossal idiot she has for a father (nothing new, coming from her) as she walks out of the kitchen and obviously questions every single thing that happened in her life.

Castiel watches after her for a moment or two before he pulls his phone out of his pocket and speed dials Dean. He doesn't pick up, though, and it takes another forty minutes for him to get back to Castiel.

“You're in high demand because of that article, aren't you?” Castiel cuts right to the chase without any greeting whatsoever.

Dean, on the other line, huffs at that. “Tell me about it.”

“Well, it's your own fault for dropping such a bomb.”

Dean makes a choking noise in the back of his throat. “No, dude, this is _your_ fault!”

Castiel wrinkles his forehead. “How is this my fault?”

“Did you seriously forget?” Dean huffs like he can't believe what he's hearing. “ _You_ were the one to encourage me to tell my fans that we're in contact again. _I_ could've happily lived on with them none being the wiser.”

For a moment Castiel finds himself absolutely confused by that statement, but then he suddenly remembers their first dinner together and how they started to talk about that website dedicated to Dean's whereabouts ( _DeanWatch_ , if Castiel remembers that correctly). Castiel indeed suggested that Dean should be open with his fans and at least give them something to hold on to.

“Right, I forgot.” Not really surprising considering what went down right afterwards, with Daphne and the letter. “Then I guess this _is_ my fault.”

“You don't say,” Dean growls.

“Well, don't you feel good to finally have it out there?” Castiel asks.

“You _seriously_ have no idea how all of this works, do you?” Dean wonders with so much fond exasperation in his tone Castiel feels something seize in his chest. “Dude, the rumor mills are going crazy right now.”

“They were already crazy before,” Castiel points out. Granted, at some point after the interview everything got a bit tamer, but it never really stopped.

Dean, however, only snorts. “Honey, you have _no_ idea,” he objects. “For the press and my fans we're the confirmed protagonists of a rom-com now. Our love is wonderful and tragic and at one point one of us will desperately rush to the airport to keep the the other one from leaving the country. Love confessions everywhere, my friend.”

Castiel laughs at that. “Well, _I_ will most certainly not be the one rushing to any airports.”

“Me neither. I have better shit to do.”

“Then it sounds as if we're truly disappointing fans and press alike.”

“Seems like it.”

They stay silent for a while, merely chuckling to themselves and wondering how their lives could ever have taken such a turn.

And then Dean confesses, “But yeah, I'm actually glad people know what's up now.”

Castiel presses the phone closer to his ear as something starts to flutter in his stomach at the softness in Dean's tone. “Yes?”

There is a shuffling noise, probably caused by Dean shrugging his shoulders in that nonchalant way of his. “Yeah,” he admits. “I mean, you were right, my fans deserve the truth. A few little crumbs, anyway.”

Castiel smiles at that. It's truly endearing how much Dean cares for his fans. For him they're not a means to an end to get more famous and evidently earn much more money but real people close to heart. People he wants to make happy, with his movies, his attitude, his media presence.

“I'm sure they're appreciating your honest,” Castiel answers.

“They're appreciative alright,” Dean agrees with a snort. “Charlie already read the first fanfics about us two she could find to me. Most of them were posted merely an hour after that damned article.”

Castiel isn't really certain what fanfics are, but he can't help a chuckle at Dean's tone. “Well, they're dedicated.”

“That they are,” Dean confirms, sounding both like an exasperated and proud dad. “Well, what the hell, right? Let them have their fun.”

 _We, at least, know the real story,_ he doesn't say.

And Castiel certainly agrees. It's nice that Dean is sharing some of their history with his fans, but the true story is only for them.

“Dean?”

“Yes?”

“Am I as hot as Captain America?”

For a moment there is stunned silence on the other end of the line.

And then Dean laughs and laughs.

“No, man,” he says eventually. “You're way hotter than Captain America.”

Castiel joins the laughter and just knows that everything will be alright.

While he forces himself to ignore the excited squeeze of his heart at Dean's words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, the rumor mills are truly going crazy right now ;)
> 
> And perhaps at some point those rumors actually might turn into reality???
> 
> Who knows? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> But I hope you had fun with the chapter!
> 
> In the next one you'll get some Sam POV, a bit DreamHunter and some Claire-Jack sibling time :D


	25. Advice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm super dumb and just uploaded this chapter to the wrong WIP and didn't notice a thing for like 20 minutes 🙈
> 
> Like seriously, my poor "Good Omens" story was just minding its own business and then suddenly a random wild Destiel chapter appeared 😂😂
> 
> DAMN, it seems I REALLY need some sleep!!
> 
> *face palms*  
> *quickly checks if I've got the right fic this time*  
> *goes back to business*
> 
> If anyone of you ever writes my memoirs, please skip this embarrassing moment of my life, yeah?
> 
> -

“What about this one?”

Dean sounds almost frantic as he shoves another piece of large cloth right into Sam's line of sight and wiggles it around as though he believes that by some miracle his brother might actually miss what is going on here.

Sam sighs heavily. “They're sheets, Dean,” he points out. “And they look just as okay as the ones you showed me before. Or the ones before that.”

Dean studies the white material in his hands skeptically. “You sure?”

Damn, Sam never thought Dean would ever freak out over some bed covers, but apparently here they are now. And only because Cas is due in about a week and Dean got it into his stubborn head that everything has to be picture perfect, the color and level of softness of the bed sheets among that.

“You're acting ridiculous, man,” Sam complains. He originally was just looking forward to a nice weekend with his brother and enjoy their very rare alone time. Cooking their favorite dishes, having some movie marathons, watching Sam's dogs go crazy about all that forest around them. Just the usual. But when he arrived Dean just had been busy booking Cas' ticket and making plans and before Sam knew what was happening Dean suddenly got lost in his own mind, wondering if the pillows on the guest bed are nice enough and if he's got time to give the bathroom a quick make over.

Sam indulged him for a while, knowing fairly well that Dean's quite nervous to have so much intimate personal time with solely Cas, but at some point it started to become utterly absurd.

“Cas won't care about the sheets,” Sam urges. “Or how many different types of cereal you've got in the house.”

Dean growls as he all of a sudden flops himself onto the floor, right next to Bones and Riot who have been eyeing Dean's freak out with wary expressions. “I know that,” he sighs. “I just …”

He trails off and makes a vague hand gesture.

And yeah, Sam gets it, of course. From a rational perspective he knows it's stupid, but he didn't do any better in the past either. At least before his first date with Eileen he changed his outfit about twenty-three times and eventually only stopped his frenzy when he ran out of time. And the first night she spent at his place he actually sneaked out of the bedroom around midnight to hastily clean up the kitchen because he didn't want her to find any mess early in the morning right after waking up and think him a lazy slob.

So sure, he can relate to Dean's feelings.

As dumb as they seem.

That's why in the end he only settles for a pat on the shoulder and a hopefully sympathetic expression as they silently share a moment of joined absurdity.

“So,” Sam eventually prods after a while when he deems the situation safe enough to tackle the topic that's been on his mind for quite a time now. “Cas's gonna be here for a while, huh?”

Dean nods, looking both anxious and happy about it.

“You're finally gonna make a move?” Sam wonders.

Dean blinks. “A move?”

He actually looks confused about that. As if he has no idea why Sam would ever consider such a thing.

“Yes, _a move_ ,” Sam emphasizes. “You're crazy about the guy, are you not?”

Dean hurries to snap his attention back to the two dogs beside him, obviously eager to hide the blush that instantly showed up on his cheeks at those words.

“Sammy –”

“No, please don't deny it,” Sam cuts in with a sigh. “You like him, you wanna have his babies, and I'm really happy for you.”

For a moment Dean chokes on air, the mental image apparently too much for his delicate sensibilities. “ _Dude_ –!”

“What?” Sam shrugs his shoulders innocently. “Don't tell me it's not true.”

“Only because I had a crush on the guy twenty years ago –”

“You didn't have a crush,” Sam interjects once more, seriously not in the mood for any flimsy excuses at this point.

“I did not?” Dean wonders, clearly so bewildered by that statement that he can't help switching his gaze back to his brother.

Sam, meanwhile, rolls his eyes so hard it's probably still visible from space. “Crushes are temporary infatuations,” he says. “Powerful, yes. Sometimes even all-consuming. But they usually don't hold on for such a long time.”

Dean simply stares at him.

“But what you had with Cas …” Sam cocks his head to one side. “I mean, yeah, I guess it started with a crush, but it most definitely didn't just stay that way. No, man, _you_ were heads-over-heels in love with the guy.”

Dean stares some more.

And obviously forgot how blinking works somewhere along the way.

“I mean, yeah, I didn't realize it back then,” Sam continues. “But since I was barely ten and believed all girls had cooties I guess I can be excused, right? Nonetheless I remember how devastated you were when we had to move and even though you never outright said it I knew it was because of Cas. It was obvious enough that even little!me caught up on that.”

Dean finally remembers how to blink and does just so very rapidly.

“And when that interview happened the whole picture finally made sense to me,” Sam explains. “Usually when people talk about past crushes they just have a little indulgent smile on their face and revel in old memories. But _you_ – damn, it sounded like no time had passed. Like you're still that stupid fourteen-year-old idiot smitten with the boy from next door.”

Sam totally expects Dean to deny everything right away. To come up with some lame excuses why Sam's head in the clouds and he seriously should seek out some professional help for his outrageous delusions.

But instead he begins to look pensive. As if he's honestly mulling Sam's word over very thoroughly.

“You think so?” he wonders in the end.

Sam can't help a huff. “ _Duh_.”

Dean glares at him. “Oh, _excuse me_ ,” he hisses. “I was a kid back then, I had no idea how – uh, how it feels to be, you know –” He flails his arms around wildly. “I thought it was a simple crush.”

Sam heaves a deep breath.

 _Jeez_.

“When I was about sixteen I had a mad crush on one of my classmates, Cindy,” he tells Dean. “I'm not sure if I've ever talked about it before with you, to be honest. Throughout my English class I could barely do anything else but look at her. My grades actually started to slip because of it.” He finds himself chuckling at his lovestruck teenage self. “And then we moved _again_ and I was heartbroken for weeks. Which, as you know, are years in teenager time.” Dean snorts at that and nods in agreement. “But when I'm thinking about Cindy now? Well, it's a nice memory and I definitely wonder how her life went and if she's happy wherever she is. But would I go all lovey-dovey during a live interview, for everyone to see, and gush about the color of her eyes to the point where I forget everyone else around me? _Hell no_!”

Dean keeps on studying him thoughtfully and Sam allows him some time to ponder over it. He has no clue whether Dean never even considered this option before or if he's been so deep in denial land he didn't dare to poke it with a stick, but it seems he's not a totally lost cause. And for that Sam will gladly lean back and let him figure out the rest all on his own.

“So …” Dean eventually breaks the silence. “You think I should make a move?”

“Well, I think you should at least think about it,” Sam offers, hoping to get some of the pressure of his brother's shoulder. “Bursting out some big love confession right when Cas arrives could make the rest of his stay very awkward if things don't go according to plan.”

Dean scoffs at that. “You don't say,” he mutters. “I don't even know if Cas … well, if he, y'know …”

Unfortunately that's a question that Sam can't answer either. He hasn't met Cas yet and even back as a teenager he was extremely hard to read. Sam can't imagine that got any better as he grew up.

“I know that Cas cares about you a great deal.” That, at least, Sam is certain of. “And I'm sure he wouldn't just quit your friendship even if it'd turn out he doesn't return your feelings. He's way too polite and stubborn for that.”

A fond smile flickers over Dean's lips.

“I'm just saying … maybe test the waters first,” Sam suggests.

Dean frowns. “Test the waters?”

“Yeah, get a feel of him.” Sam shrugs casually. “Be a little more touchy-feely than usual. Perhaps hint at a possible relationship here and there in a joking non-joking manner. Just see how he reacts.”

Dean arches his brows. “ _That's_ your awesome advice?”

Sam throws him a hopefully impressive scowl. “I mean, you can also be all impulsive if you want,” he grunts. “Grab him right there at the airport and kiss the living daylight out of him. Let your panties drop, for everyone to see –”

“ _Okay, stop it_!” Dean cuts in harshly, the flush on his face the most hilarious thing ever. “I get it, _Jesus Christ_ –”

Sam smirks. “My name is actually Sam, but I'm flattered by the mix-up.”

Dean glares his patented big-brother glare at him. “Well, with that ridiculously princess hair of yours it's an easy mistake to make.”

And then they switch back to bickering and being general assholes to each other for the rest of the night and Sam can't help feeling like a stupid teenager again every time Dean and he act like siblings incarnate. So while Dean continues to mock his hair, his overall appearance, his eating habits and basically anything else he can think of Sam keeps on fighting the idiotic desire to grin all through it.

And when at the end of the day Dean's attention is gripped by a text Cas sent him and that little smile flickers over his features as he answers his friend right away, Sam just prays that, whatever might happen, Dean will come out of it happy.

  
  


\---

  
  


**Kaia [10:47 PM]:** _When is your flight tomorrow?_

 **Claire [10:47 PM]:** _WAY too early :(_

 **Kaia [10:48 PM]:** _Oh shut it, you love waking up early._

 **Claire [10:48 PM]:** _Not THAT early!!! like seriously, I should've been asleep hours ago to get through the day tomorrow somehow_

 **Kaia [10:48 PM]:** _And instead your talking with me and sacrifice your precious sleeping time. I'm blushing over here, Novak ///.///_

 **Claire [10:49 PM]:** _The things I do for you, Nieves ;)_

 **Kaia [10:49 PM]:** _But seriously, go to sleep!! I don't want you to complain to poor Jack all day tomorrow, the little guy doesn't deserve that_

 **Claire [10:49 PM]:** _you know, I'm not really sure if I should find it cute that you're worrying about my baby brother that much or if I should be insulted that you're worrying MORE about him than me!_

 **Kaia [10:50 PM]:** _Well, your whining IS pretty annoying, so I can totally feel for Jack._

Claire chuckles at that. She just loves all the fond teasing they do with each other, even though it's mostly to her expense. And she's seriously gonna miss not doing it in person for the next couple of weeks.

Every single year she looks forward to travel to Canada and spend some time at Mom's place. She rents a nice, modern bungalow close to a vast lake and lots of nature, the picture perfect scene you find in all the tourist brochures. And since Claire always preferred the quiet to overcrowded big cities she never had a problem staying in the wilderness for an extended period of time without much contact to the outside world.

Sure, they're not completely without any civilization – after all, Mom has to travel a lot for her job, so some sort of sturdy roads and airports not that far away from her home have been a priority for her –, but it's still a difference to Lawrence. Claire came to appreciate that.

And she also values her time with her mother. After the divorce their relationship had been kinda rocky and back as a little child she hadn't really understood any of what went down. Her mom was just gone one day and Claire was told to deal with that. Nowadays, of course, she knows that it's been way more to it than that, that Mom struggled (and still does today, to a certain extent) with lots of mental health issues and that the time of the divorce has been both the hardest and the most liberating period of her life.

Claire just turned eleven years when her mother sat her down and finally told her everything that happened back then. She didn't leave out any single detail, eager to make Claire understand the events from her point of view, and to this day Claire remembers that moment rather fondly. Mom treated her like an adult, like a friend worthy of knowing the whole story. And after that conversation Claire felt closer to her than ever before.

So yes, she also looks forward to being with Mom again. That woman can't cook to save her life and sometimes she is even more socially awkward than Dad, but she's also fun and loves to cuddle and Claire is really excited to see her again in person rather than on a computer screen.

But this year it's also different because it means leaving Kaia behind. Granted, from a logical point of view Claire's very aware that it'll solely be a couple of weeks and that she shouldn't make such a big deal out of it, but she just can't help it. Their relationship is so new and fresh and every single kiss lets Claire feel like she's floating through the air. To think to have to do without that for a longer period of time truly isn't the easiest thing to imagine.

But then again, their reunion will be so much sweeter for it.

Claire simply has to survive the weeks of separation first.

 **Kaia [10:56 PM]:** _You know I said it before but I'm gonna miss you, Novak_

Claire smiles. It's as if Kaia read her mind from such a distance.

 **Claire [10:56 PM]:** _Yeah, I guess I'll miss you too ;)_

She takes a deep breath and is just about to go into further detail when she suddenly notices her door being opened gently. She glances to the side, totally expecting Dad to stand there and wonder why she's still up at such a late hour, but in the end finds herself surprised when it's Jack in the doorway.

“Hey,” she says, blinking at him in bewilderment.

“Sorry,” he mutters as he chews on his bottom lip and suddenly looks ten years younger. “I just saw that your light's still on, so –”

He makes a little noise in the back of his throat Claire is unable to interpret and continues to stay awkwardly between the hallway and Claire's room, obviously unsure what to do.

Claire heaves her upper body up a little and studies him intently. “You okay?”

Jack shrugs and avoids her gaze as he answers, “Yeah, just had a nightmare …”

Realization dawns on Claire. Jack always tries to hide it, but every single year he gets nervous about their little trip. Sure, at the end of it he enjoys the whole experience immensely, however, he constantly has trouble getting there first. He's not the greatest fan of flying, he always gets a bit anxious about meeting Mom again, he regularly has issues sleeping somewhere else than his own bed – yes, the list isn't small.

And Claire knows that he'll get over it in a matter of days and soon enough he will fall in love with Canada and being with Mom all over again, but for now he's a bundle of nerves and Claire feels bad for him.

No matter how much they fight sometimes, he's still her little brother and she solemnly swore to always protect him, back when she hadn't been much older than four years old herself.

Of course she can't step away from that promise now.

So she scoots to her side and pats onto the free space right next to her. “C'mon then,” she urges him. “You can stay here until you'll calm down.”

Jack assesses her skeptically. “Am I not too old to sleep in your bed?”

Claire snorts. “I didn't say anything about _sleeping_ , dumbo,” she points out. “I don't want you to snore into my ear.”

Jack scowls at that. “I don't snore.”

“Well, I have no intention to find out,” she states right away. “C'mon, stupid, just stay here for a while.”

Jack hesitates only for a moment longer before his whole demeanor melts and he hastily crawls below the covers beside Claire. He wiggles around a bit, searching for the most comfortable position, and Claire can't help a huff as the bed starts to shake, regretting her life choices already. But when Jack eventually settles down and wraps himself into the blanket like a little burrito he actually looks rather adorable, Claire has to admit.

“Why are you still up?” Jack wonders after a few moments of silence.

Claire glances at the phone in her hands. “Just talking with Kaia.”

“I'm glad she is your girlfriend,” Jack announces. “She's nice.”

Claire smiles gently at that. “She is.”

“Maybe next year she can come with us and meet Mom,” Jack says, his excited innocence so obnoxiously endearing it makes Claire's chest hurt.

“Yeah, maybe,” she mumbles, not at all keen to reveal how very much she likes that thought.

“Do you think Dad will have a good time with Dean too while we're gone?” Jack asks, his voice already starting to get a little slurred due to fatigue.

Claire, meanwhile, can't help a scoff. “If they're both stop being idiots, they're gonna have an amazing time.”

She doesn't want to think too hard about it, for her own sanity's sake, but a little smile flickers over her features nonetheless.

“Dean is very nice, too,” Jack mumbles. “I wouldn't mind him being Dad's boyfriend.”

Claire pats his head softly. “Me neither.”

And soon after Jack falls asleep and Claire doesn't have the heart to throw him out of her bed. So she lets him rest, undisturbed, and goes back to her conversation with Kaia.

It's a while later when Dad suddenly appears at the doorway, probably also lured in by the light still being on, and finds them both huddled together underneath the covers. He seems surprised for a moment, but that quickly changes into a gentle expression.

“ _Thank you,”_ he mouths at her.

Claire only rolls her eyes in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *triple checks yet again if I've uploaded this chapter to the right fic*  
> *releases a breath of relief*
> 
> Looks like it worked this time 👍
> 
> And I hope you had fun!!


	26. New York

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, my friends *waves excitedly*
> 
> It's Tuesday again and this time I made extra sure to upload this chapter to the right WIP, so we're clearly off to a better start than last week ;D
> 
> I hope you have fun with Dean and Cas reuniting again!
> 
> -

Castiel has never been to New York City before, but if it's even half as crowded as the John F. Kennedy International Airport is right now he's pretty sure it won't become his favorite town anytime soon.

After all, he rather likes it quiet and subdued.

However, at the same time he's naturally not surprised by all those masses squeezing themselves through the crammed halls and passages. The Big Apple is surely famous for its high amount of people and Castiel tried everything to prepare himself accordingly beforehand the minute Dean proposed to meet up in New York about two weeks ago. He's been having some business to deal with in Benny's office in Downtown for the last couple of days and it only seemed logical that Castiel would fly to New York and they'd travel back to Dean's place together from there.

It's a reasonable enough plan and Castiel actually had been low-key excited to finally see the city for real instead of just some pictures or TV shows. But when he exited his plane and saw himself confronted with much more people than his brain was ever able to comprehend he suddenly found himself not so sure about that anymore.

Then again, it's not like he'd turn on his heels and just flee back to Kansas here and now. He started this and he'll see it through the end.

And a tiny smile flickers over his lips as he reminds himself that Dean is waiting somewhere behind those masses. It's a goal worth focusing on.

So he heaves a deep breath and walks on like he doesn't have a care in the world. Like the bald guy next to him smelling of tuna or the stressed looking mother right in front of him dragging a crying toddler behind her are just normal occurrences and nothing to get distracted about.

Because Dean is waiting for him and soon enough they will be at his place in the middle of nowhere and Castiel is going to get more peace and quiet than he'll ever know what to do with.

With that picture in mind he gets his luggage (and he's grateful that Claire convinced him to put a large red sticker on his otherwise unremarkable black suitcase, otherwise he would have taken a long time finding it again) and heads to the main area. Dean told him a driver would pick him up there and he is determined to get there as quickly as possible.

As he arrives he roams his gaze around, focused on spotting a man or woman with a sign of his name in their hands. Quite the feat considering there are a bunch of people in line with signs and Castiel needs a moment to read through them all.

Suddenly, though, a squeal pierces through the gigantic hall and before Castiel has any idea what is even happening he finds himself attacked and pulled into a rough hug by a redhead.

Castiel blinks and freezes on the spot, not sure whether this is just normal New York behavior or whether he should fear for his life. At least he doesn't get surprise hugged by any strangers back home and would definitely deem it beyond weird if that would actually happen at some point, but here, in this new town, with its own set of rules, Castiel definitely can't be sure.

But as the woman in his arms suddenly pulls back a bit to look up to him he suddenly recognizes her from a bunch of pictures Dean showed him once.

“Oh, you're Charlie,” he realizes, a soft smile playing over his lips as he recalls all the stories Dean told him about her.

“And you're Cas,” Charlie adds unnecessarily, her grin as bright as the sun. “Damn, it's awesome to finally have you here. Dean can't shut up about you.”

Castiel refuses to blush at that statement, even though it's a hard task.

“I had no idea you would be here,” Castiel says instead. “Dean said he'd send a driver to pick me up. He never mentioned your name.”

Charlie shrugs as she steps back out of his embrace. “That was his plan, yeah,” she concedes. “But I volunteered last minute when I heard. After all, I already knew your face from all the photos Dean's got on his phone.”

Once again, Castiel fights back a flush.

“It's nice to finally meet you then,” he says, smiling softly. “Dean always speaks very fondly of you.”

Charlie waves him off, though she seems very pleased by his words. “Oh, don't flatter me,” she dismisses with a chuckle. “Dean would just be totally lost without me.”

“ _That_ he mentioned several times, too, yes.”

Charlie laughs, absolutely delighted. “Damn, it's gonna be amazing having you around.”

As she leads him through the airport toward the parking lot and talks a mile a minute Castiel can't help noticing that she is exactly how Dean described her. Energetic, easily excited, a true chatter box and instantly friends with people she barely knows. At least she is treating Castiel like they've known each other for ages before they even reach her car. And he has to confess it is rather nice to meet such an open person.

“So, do you live here?” Castiel wonders as they find themselves on the streets at some point and he eventually manages to get a word in.

“Nah, not really,” she says with a fierce shake of her head. “I mean, I live very far in the outskirts. Real New Yorkers don't even call it part of the city anymore, myself included. I'm not really cut out for the big city vibes, you know? At least for something of this scale.” She gestures around them, at all the cars and people trying not to suffocate by the sheer magnitude of it all. “But I figured it would be quite convenient to get a place not that far away, considering Benny's office is here and Dean spends a lot of time in town because of that. It's just our headquarters of sorts and since I technically don't have any roots to speak of I didn't mind renting something close by.”

She speaks about it almost flippantly, as though she seriously has no problem with having no real place she's able to call home, but Castiel can't help squinting his eyes at her. Granted, there are lots of people like that, travelers who are eager to declare the entire world their home, however, he can't shake the feeling that Charlie isn't all that eager to be one of them. He wonders what has been the reason for her having no roots, if it's similar to Dean's situation with his family moving around an awful lot, or if it's maybe something else.

The times Dean spoke about Charlie Castiel sometimes got the feeling there is more to her story, more than meets the eyes. But he never elaborated and Castiel never pried, figuring that this wasn't Dean's story to tell anyway.

And Castiel can't help wondering whether, one day, he actually might be close enough with Charlie to learn the truth. Because she is one of Dean's best friends and Castiel can't imagine having a deep and meaningful relationship with him without Charlie being part of that as well.

“It's a nice little place,” Charlie continues. “Dean offered to buy it for me because he's a generous Barbie doll like that, but for now I'm happy just renting the apartment. God knows Dean pays me more than enough to have no issues with that.”

Sounds reasonable. Buying a place is at least far more permanent and for someone not really used to settling down this might be a much larger step than for anyone else.

For the rest of the drive – which takes four times as long as it would have in Lawrence due to the insane amount of traffic – Charlie just talks about her neighborhood and the people living there and their very own approach of life and Castiel finds himself fascinated and also a little bit terrified. He can't help feeling like a clueless country boy all of a sudden and once again he wonders what Dean even seems to see in him.

The building in which Benny's office is located doesn't look all that different compared to all the skyscrapers around. It's big and tall and very shiny and makes you feel fairly grateful that someone made the effort to invent elevators.

However, a big crowd gathered in front of it surely distinguishes it from all the other buildings.

“Dean's fans,” Charlie points out as she notices Castiel's look. “Word must have gone around he is in town and they come here on the off-chance they might catch a little glimpse of him.”

Castiel blinks and studies the people. He expected them to be young, but it's actually a quite diverse crowd with some older men and women and even a few little children as well.

Of course Castiel had been quite aware that Dean is a huge star – after all, how could he have not? –, but somehow it feels even more true now than ever. To actually see those people, firsthand, just waiting there patiently for their idol to show up, hoping for the best, perhaps even for hours and hours – it seems rather surreal. To imagine they adore someone Castiel casually speaks to on a daily basis …

Damn, it seems rather odd. Like his life is a movie itself.

And he can't help wondering how the ending of that one might turn out.

  
  


\---

  
  


Charlie leads him through a side entrance and soon enough they find themselves inside a maze of hallways. While she easily chats away and jokes around how she gets lost in here even nowadays, after all these years, Castiel makes sure to never keep her out of his sight because he's absolutely certain he'll definitely end up as a missing person without a guide.

It seems to take forever, hallway after hallway, lounges after lounges, offices after offices, before they eventually stop right in front of a very important looking door. Castiel spots BENNY LAFITTE written on the name sign right beside it and feels his heart making a little jump.

Dean told him a lot about Benny, always with that bright smile on his face, and Castiel just knows that Dean deems him one of his closest friends. And though he claims Benny to be “a teddy bear inside” he obviously comes across a bit gruff and scary. At least, according to Dean, he's not a man you want to mess around with. After all, working in this business for so long you probably need a certain authority for people to take you seriously.

And Castiel would hate to make a bad first impression on someone like that out of principle.

That thought, however, disappears immediately as they step into the big office and the first thing Castiel notices is Dean sitting on the edge of the huge desk by the window, lowly talking with the bearded man standing by a bookshelf. Dean instantly pauses in whatever he is saying and just lights up as he notices Castiel's presence while Castiel senses all his worries and doubts suddenly turning insignificant at so much open happiness. Apart from his children – at least when they used to be young and small and easily excitable – no one ever had looked so joyful when Castiel entered a room.

“Cas!” Dean exclaims before rushing to his side and pulling him into a quick embrace. It's been only a few weeks since they saw each other last in person, but as Castiel wraps his arms around him in kind he can't help thinking that it's been way too long.

“I'm thrilled to see you didn't fall to your certain death,” Dean says with a laugh as he draws back way too soon for Castiel's liking. “It got me worried.”

Castiel frowns, for a moment not sure how to interpret that statement. But then he remembers Dean's fear of flying and his insistence to drive almost everywhere by car because _“I won't die in one of those sky metal cans, so help me God”_ and his words make a lot more sense.

“The chance to die in a car accident is actually much higher than –”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean waves him off instantly. “I've got that lecture before. Doesn't change the fact that humans are not supposed to fly around in the sky.”

Castiel chuckles. “I'm pretty sure humans aren't actually supposed to drive in fast metal carriages either.”

“Well, if you wanna walk from Kansas to New York next time, be my guest,” Dean says. “I mean, how long would that take? Two years? A piece of cake, if you ask me.”

Castiel rolls his eyes at that, but instead of diving further into this silly argument and most likely have them go back and forth for another half hour at least he turns toward the other person in the room he hasn't been introduced to yet.

“I assume you are Benny?” he asks with a pleasant smile.

That spurs Dean back into action. “Oh yeah, right,” he says, obviously remembering that other people exist in the world. “Cas, this is Benny. Benny, Cas.”

Benny seems rather amused by Dean's antics, apparently already very used to his friend's mannerisms, and instantly walks over to Castiel to greet him with a firm handshake.

“It's a pleasure to meet you,” he says, the words shaped around a nice Southern drawl. “You're quite the celebrity around here. You probably have no idea how much work you put us through.”

Castiel blinks in confusion. “Oh?”

Benny laughs good-naturedly. “Yeah, only because teenage!you messed with poor baby!Dean's head that much,” he says as he steps next to Dean to ruffle the man's hair. Dean instantly wiggles out of it and shoots Benny an impressive pout, but Benny seems only to be delighted by that reaction. “That whole _Mystery Crush_ dilemma got me lots of extra work, I can tell you that.”

Oh, right. Benny is Dean's agent and manager and most likely had to do most of the damage control after the interview.

“Well, I'm sorry about that, for all it's worth,” Castiel answers, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards. “Next time I'm gonna think twice before being nice to the lanky neighbor's kid.”

“ _Hey_!” Dean leaps in, his pout only getting deeper.

Benny, however, simply ignores him. “I sure hope so,” he says. “You never know who'll become a famous movie star in the future. Even scrawny idiots like this one.” He gestures at Dean with a scoff. “It's always good to be prepared for everything.”

Dean glares at him. “You done?”

Benny laughs at the question. “Not in a million years, brother,” he states. “But for now? Yeah, I guess I'm done.”

Castiel smiles watching their little interaction. They're truly behave like the brothers Dean always says they are.

For a long moment they continue to stare at each other – Dean's glare hard and intense, Benny's expression unimpressed and amused – and they seem to communicate a lot of things just with their eyes. In the end, though, Dean straightens his shirt and makes a huffing noise before he turns back to Castiel.

“So,” he says, a smile returning back on his face as soon as he meets his gaze with Castiel's, “I thought we could make a quick tour through New York and pretend to be tourists for today. I mean, it's not like I can go out there and walk around like any other person, but we could at least drive around a bit. You've never been to New York before, right?”

Castiel's actually not that keen to go out there and mingle among the million of people, but Dean seems excited about showing his friend around and Castiel surely isn't here to spoil the man's fun. Besides, with Dean at his side it probably won't get that bad. It might even turn out to be fun at the end of the day.

So he agrees, “Sure.”

Dean seems delighted by his easy acceptance. “Great,” he says. And then suddenly his grin morphs into something wider as he announces, “And this time it's _you_ who needs the disguise.”

Castiel frowns. “What?”

“Like I mentioned before, the chances of being recognized around here are far higher than in places like Lawrence,” Dean explains with a shrug. “So it'd be better to let you look just like one of the guys, y'know? To make you blend in and stuff.”

He gestures at something behind Castiel's back and as Castiel turns around to look for the source of his attention he finds himself flinching as he suddenly notices another man, just standing there by the bookshelves and being so unobtrusive Castiel didn't even feel the inkling of an idea he had been there in the first place. But since the door hadn't opened again since Castiel stepped inside it's fair to assume that man had quietly been there the entire time.

Castiel flushes at the mere prospect of completely having missed the man's existence.

“That's Gadreel,” Dean introduces him with a laugh, obviously enjoying Castiel's predicament. “He's my bodyguard.”

Castiel stares at the guy. He's large, dressed in a fine suit and appears as though he could make a grown man whimper and cry for his mother just by the intensity of his stare.

“Hello,” Gadreel greets him, his face apart from a little muscle twitching above his right eyebrow a complete blank. “It's nice to finally meet you.”

Castiel blinks. He recalls Dean mentioning the name Gadreel once or twice in their conversations, but he surely hadn't been aware of the man's job description.

“It's very nice to meet you, too,” he says nevertheless because his parents raised him with some manners. He even offers the man a hopefully polite smile.

But then he can't help whipping his head back to Dean. “I had no idea you have a bodyguard?”

He can't really tell how to feel about it. From a rational point of view it makes sense and Castiel actually shouldn't be surprised about it, but his chest clenches painfully at the mere thought of Dean _needing_ protection.

“Well, he's not _mine_ , so to speak,” Dean states. “He's one of Benny's guys and Benny insists he comes with me whenever I'm visiting bigger cities or doing some special tours or whatever. He's paranoid I might end up getting kidnapped or something.”

Benny snorts at the comment. “Gadreel is merely there to keep you in line,” he objects. “You'd get lost all the time without him. Not to mention that you'd end up distracted by every shiny thing and would get no job done if he wouldn't lead you back on track.”

Dean scowls spectacularly at that while Gadreel merely nods in confirmation.

“You're both the worst,” Dean complains.

“We know,” Benny and Gadreel answer in unison.

Dean groans loudly and Castiel can't help feeling quite at home here. He seriously likes these people.

“Well, _as I was saying_ ,” Dean presses through gritted teeth as he turns his attention back to Castiel, “you need to blend in and disguise yourself. An additional bodyguard won't stand out that much, I always drag some guys around when I'm here.”

Charlie suddenly sidles up beside Castiel with a chuckle. “You even already dressed the part, dude.”

Castiel looks down on himself. He had an appointment with his bank right before driving to the airport and he honestly had no real time to change for the flight. So he's still in his slacks, tie and dress shirt. With an extra waistcoat in his bag.

He could easily blend in next to Gadreel in that attire, it's true.

Dean grins brightly. “So what do ya say, Cas? Fancy being my bodyguard for the day?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *the “Bodyguard” soundtrack playing distantly in the background*
> 
> Well, I don't know about Cas, but WE certainly won't complain about him becoming a bodyguard, right? 😏


	27. Wedding Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are again, another Tuesday came upon us!
> 
> And I would suggest you brush your teeth very thoroughly first before reading this chapter because it'll get fluffy and sweet and it'll be overall not very good for your dental health >.<
> 
> Watch out, my friends!
> 
> And, as always, have fun :D
> 
> -

“Okay, first things first.”

Dean claps his hands together and grins broadly at Gadreel who immediately gets what his client's going for without actually having to hear it voiced out. By now the guy knows Dean and his very specific quirks quite well and doesn't need any instructions to understand him.

That doesn't mean, however, that he's happy about it.

“Seriously, Dean?” Gadreel complains, apparently once again regretting every single life choice he ever made that led him to this. “You're not making my job any easier.”

Dean pats his shoulder. “Yeah, I know, dude. Sorry about that.”

Cas, meanwhile, blinks in confusion. “What is going on?”

“Dean is saying hello to his fans downstairs,” Charlie chimes in, her voice already resigned because she knows very well there is no way in hell she could ever talk him out of it.

Cas still appears bewildered before stepping to the large window and glancing down to the large group of fans gathered right in front of the building, eager to catch a glimpse of Dean and more than willing to wait for hours on end for the off chance of that happening.

“You want to go out there?” Cas wonders.

“Yes,” Dean confirms with a casual shrug. “They've been there for hours. It wouldn't be right to just sneak out of the backdoor.”

On the contrary, Dean would feel like the worst, most insensitive guy in the world.

It looks like Cas actually seems to get that. At least he nods once as though Dean's train of thoughts is an absolutely inevitable one.

But then he obviously can't help creasing his forehead, his instinct to protect people he cares about already acting up once more. “But isn't that quite risky? Going out there like that?”

Dean finds himself recalling their little trip to the grocery store where Cas had been almost fanatically determined to shield his friend off from any unwanted gazes. His concern for Dean's continued anonymity a constant companion in his quest to see Deanremain a ghost for anyone else.

And it appears that attitude didn't change. It's rather adorable, Dean has to confess (because who wouldn't get a little warm and fuzzy at Cas becoming so endearingly protective?), but it's also painting a wrong picture in the end. Granted, most of the time Dean indeed prefers to stay invisible and just try to enjoy normal stuff for at least a little while, however, that's clearly not all his life is. And he needs Cas to see that as well.

“C'mon, Cas, 99,9% of my fans are amazing and won't kidnap me right there on the spot,” he explains. “They're just hoping for some photos and perhaps an autograph, that's about it.”

Cas looks like he wants to protest some more, but it seems he's realizing he has no right to refuse Dean this experience. So he goes over to chewing his bottom lip, probably switching between understanding and worrying.

“You can stay inside, if you want to,” Dean suggests. “It won't take that long. Afterwards we'll grab the car and drive off.”

Cas stares at him like he thinks him crazy. “I want to meet your fans, too,” he says as if it's the most normal thing in the world to feel that way.

Dean tries to keep the stupidity level of his following grin on a minimum and exclaims, “Well, then let's go.”

  
  


\---

  
  


Taking Cas with him turned out to be a huge mistake.

Usually it's an easy affair. Thanks to a sturdy railing on one side and Benny's men shielding him off from the other the front of the office building is actually the perfect place to meet up with his fans without it getting cramped and overwhelming. Dean is able to get close to them, have some pictures taken, sign off whatever piece of paper is shoved underneath his nose and chat a bit with them.

Dean always enjoys to be close to people and share a little moment with them.

But now he's barely capable of concentrating because Cas is _so fucking distracting_. He's standing somewhat to the side, close enough to the bodyguards that he can pass off as one of them, but still far enough that he wouldn't be in the line of fire in the unlikely scenario that anything might happen. He is quiet and unobtrusive and blends in truly perfectly, just like Dean hoped he would.

But Dean still can't keep himself from sneaking glances in his direction way more than he's actually supposed to.

Only because Cas has the absolute audacity to look criminally attractive.

Next to the slacks and dress shirt which already piqued Dean's interest when he first walked into Benny's office Cas seriously had the nerve to add the most formfitting waistcoat to the outfit humankind has ever seen. And _then_ Gadreel gave him some aviator glasses to complete the outfit while Cas tamed his wild sex hair into something more moderate (and outrageously delicious).

He indeed looks like one of the guys. Even if he would end up on some pictures chances are very slim that anyone would recognize him. At least no one who wouldn't already know it was him.

So yes, perfect.

And perfectly distracting.

Dean grinds his teeth as he reminds himself for the hundredth time to _focus, idiot_ and not make his thoughts too obvious. Because he can't even risk the off-chance that someone might put two and two together and connect his apparent lack of concentration with the hot bodyguard standing in the background.

Thankfully his fans are very good at bringing him back to reality. Especially like the one he is facing right now.

It's a small girl, probably around six years old, who is being held in her mother's arms and is just telling him excitedly that her name is Charlotte.

“Charlotte, huh?” Dean smiles gently at her and leans a little closer. “That is very pretty name.”

She bounces giddily in her mother's hold. “You have a pretty name, too.”

Dean chuckles. He loves to interact with kids.

“And your dress is really beautiful,” he points out, gesturing at the yellow sunflower dress. “You put it on just for me?”

Charlotte giggles. “Yes!”

“I feel honored.”

“Mommy made it for me,” she tells him, patting her mother's cheek who instantly blushes as Dean's eyes fix on her. “For Auntie Rose's wedding. Last weekend.”

Dean's heart melts at her enthusiasm.

“Well, your mother did an amazing job,” he says genuinely. “I bet next to your Auntie Rose people were only looking at you, right?”

While Charlotte buries her face in her mother's neck, apparently suddenly very bashful, the woman smirks and nods in confirmation to Dean's question.

No surprise there.

“Maybe I can wear it to your wedding, too?” Charlotte suggests as she shyly bites her bottom lip, obviously dreading the possibility that Dean might refuse her proposal.

Dean, however, only raises his eyebrow. “My wedding?”

“Yeah, your wedding with Steve,” she says with a bright smile. “Mommy said you're marrying him.”

Dean glances at the woman in question who instantly started to flush in embarrassment at her daughter's words. “Honey, I didn't mean – I was just joking – I didn't …” She looks at Dean almost pleadingly. “I didn't tell her that, I swear.”

Charlotte scoffs. “But you _said_ that Dean is in love like Auntie Rose is in love and that Steve is making him all blushy and that they marry soon, you bet, and they be happy and sappy …”

The poor woman blushes more and more as she's obviously beginning to contemplate if it'd be possible for the ground to swallow her whole.

Dean, meanwhile, can't help feeling flustered himself, even though he achieves not to show it from the outside. Instead he even manages to produce a chuckle that sounds delighted rather than nervous.

“I see, I see,” he cuts into Charlotte's excited rambling. “You've been thinking about our wedding a lot, huh?”

Charlotte grins while it is the mother's turn to bury her face into her daughter's hair to hide herself from the world.

Dean, in the meantime, can't help glancing at Cas for a quick second. He's standing way too far away to have overheard anything, his face seemingly impassive if it weren't for the tiny smile flickering over his features as he watches Dean interacting with his fans, and for a moment Dean is utterly unable to not picture Charlotte's implications. He remembers Sam's words, how Dean was in love with Cas back in the days and very well still might be, and the thought of making it official in such a grand way, to put a ring on the guy's finger for everyone to see, makes something flutter in Dean's chest.

“Well, Steve should be so lucky,” he jokes eventually, winking good-naturedly at Charlotte. At first he considered denying her statement, using his charm to get out of the situation as elegantly as possible, but his mom once told him it always sends the wrong message if you protest too much and Charlotte certainly doesn't deserve to be shrugged off like that.

“Tell you what,” Dean says, leaning in and lowering his voice conspiratorially, for only the little girl (and her mother, of course) to hear. “If Steve and I were ever to get married, we're definitely gonna invite you and your pretty dress to the wedding. How about that?”

Charlotte almost loses her mind at that and in the end the girl is so freaking giddy it takes several attempts for her mom to shoot a nice memory picture of Dean and her.

And it's sometime later, when they're in the building's underground garage on their way to one of Benny's car, that Cas takes him aside and tells him, “You're really good with them.”

Dean, way too distracted by the way Cas' hand wraps around his biceps, merely blinks at that in confusion. “What?”

Cas chuckles. “Your fans,” he clarifies. “You are really good with them. They clearly adore you a great deal.”

Dean tries to not get too flustered at the compliment as he mumbles, “Yeah, well … they're amazing, so it's not that hard …”

“I beg to differ,” Cas objects. “You always have been good with people.”

Dean has no idea how to react to act, so he only makes an embarrassingly incoherent sound and falls quiet after that.

“I bet you got a lot of marriage proposals right now, am I right?” Cas teases him, obviously eager to diffuse the tension in the air with some lighthearted bantering. Because he seems to always know what Dean needs and it's certainly a breeze of fresh air.

“Well, actually,” Dean rubs the back of his head bashfully, “there _was_ some talking about weddings, yes …”

He tries to recall Sam's advice, how he should just test the waters and go for it without steamrolling the poor guy too much.

So Dean takes a deep breath and, while trying to keep his tone cool, confesses, “Well, I'm sorry I didn't discuss it with you first, but I kind of promised someone to invite her to our wedding.”

Cas' steps falter for a moment at those words, but he catches himself rather quickly. “ _Our_ wedding?”

Dean shrugs like it's not a big deal. “Yeah, that little girl heard from her mom that Steve and I are getting married soon,” he relays. “And unfortunately she was super cute and when she basically invited herself in I just couldn't say no. Sorry about that, honey.”

For a long moment Cas simply stares at him while those stupid (and quite distracting) aviator glasses that he left on for some reason despite the poorly lit garage completely cover his eyes, making it even more impossible to read his expression.

Eventually, though, he laughs quietly and Dean isn't really sure whether he's imagining it sounding a bit forced or not.

“Are you talking about that little girl in the sunflower dress?” Cas wonders.

Dean pulls a face. “I stood no chance.”

Cas nods, the corners of his mouth curling upwards. “I don't blame you. She probably could have convinced you to give her everything you own and you wouldn't have hesitated for even a second, am I right?”

He's certainly not wrong.

“Well, alright then, she may come to our wedding,” Cas allows graciously. “With that dress I'd propose she even become our flower girl. What do you think?”

Dean can't help a dumb smile. “Sounds great to me.”

  
  


\---

  
  


Dean feels bad.

Not for having Cas back at his side, of course. No, that is all kinds of awesome and their few weeks apart seriously had been a challenge after the long weekend of blissful normalcy Dean spent at the guy's house.

But he feels bad for Cas not having the experience he deserves.

Dean would never consider to live permanently in New York City (he's way too much of a country boy for that), but it's still an exiting city with lots of things to see and explore. However, instead of roaming the streets and visiting some famous sights like any regular person they're all confined to a car with tainted windows. Doomed to experience the whole thing from afar, like some strangers from the outside not invited to the amazing party.

And it's all Dean's fault. He can't just go out and be a typical tourist, not without becoming an attraction himself, and unfortunately that means his companions are unable to get the full experience as well.

Over the last hour he proposed to Cas many times to simply grab Charlie and do some touristy stuff without him, but Cas always refused with that gentle smile of his that's been driving Dean crazy since their teenage year. It's understanding and patient and everything Dean isn't sure he deserves.

“Like seriously, man, it's the Empire State Building,” Dean points out as they're just passing the Fifth Avenue, the huge complex right in front of them. “I don't mind if you and Charlie would take a look from inside. I can wait.”

Cas only huffs. “Don't be ridiculous, Dean.”

“But it's _New York_ ,” Dean emphasizes. “I just want you to have a good time and see everything.”

Cas pats his knee. “I'm with you. That's my definition of having a good time.”

Dean can't help a blush at that blunt statement. And it only gets worse as he notices Charlie, who's been sitting on the passenger seat next to Gadreel maneuvering them through the traffic, throwing a knowing look over her shoulder.

“I don't mind sitting in the car,” Cas reassures. “I actually prefer it, to be honest. I'm not really a fan of huge crowds.”

Dean definitely shares the sentiment, but he still feels like he's taking something from his friend here. “I don't want you to miss out –”

“Stop being stupid, Dean,” Cas cuts in, shaking his head in frustration. “You're not depriving me of anything, alright?”

Dean sighs deeply. “Okay, fine.”

“Besides, it's not like this is our honeymoon,” Cas teases with a chuckle.

Dean finds himself grinning in response. Sam's word are a constant on the back of his mind by now, how he should just hint at a possible relationship and see how Cas will react to that. Check for himself if the guy might be freaked out by the possibility, or amused, or disgusted, or perhaps even intrigued.

So far it seems Cas is entertained by the idea. Sure, they're joking around and Dean shouldn't take any of this seriously, but he still feels a warmth on the inside at watching Cas talking so casually about marrying him off the market.

“So where do you wanna go on our honeymoon then?” Dean can't help asking. Because he likes to torture himself, apparently.

Cas makes a good show of mulling this over carefully in his head. “Well, considering that we probably won't leave our room all that much, it shouldn't exactly matter, right?”

Dean freezes.

Nonchalantly talking about having sex – that's definitely a good sign as well.

And it also causes Dean to almost choke on air since he's just pathetic like that.

“But I guess at _some_ point we would need a break, right?” Cas jokes good-naturedly. “So I guess a nice view would be quite favorable for keeping ourselves entertained even outside the bedroom.”

 _Oh dear Lord,_ Dean isn't sure if he'll survive any of this.

“I'd say the Alps might be a good spot,” Cas decides. “Or perhaps the Black Forest?”

Dean lifts his eyebrows and tries to focus on the issue at hand instead of the blurry image of him and Cas rolling around in some hotel sheets that pops up in his mind involuntarily.

“Um, right,” he says as he hastily attempts to grasps a coherent thought. “Europe, huh?”

Cas shrugs. “You're rich. I will allow you to spoil me.”

Dean laughs and can't help realizing that Sam may have a point. Perhaps this is indeed more than a crush.

“Well, for now I only have plain old New York to offer,” he says, spreading his arms wide. “Though a little birdie told me there might be a surprise waiting for you tonight.”

Cas instantly perks up at that, looking all intrigued now. “What is it?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you.”

Cas squints at him.

“You're right,” he agrees slowly. “But I have it on good authority that I'm going to annoy you relentlessly for the next few hours if you don't tell me now.”

Dean can't help the wave of affection rushing over him.

“You're impossible, man.”

“I am,” Cas confirms with a smirk. “So you should better tell me before I get truly obnoxious and you lose all your will to live.”

Dean heaves a melodramatic sigh. “Look at me. Here I am, trying to be romantic and stuff –”

“ _Dean_!”

“Okay, _fine_!” Dean tries to look disapproving, but the little crease between Cas' eyebrows is way too cute and he ends up snickering instead. “You ever heard of The Cloisters?”

Cas squints his eyes, apparently deeply in thought for a moment there. “It's part of the Metropolitan Museum, is it not?”

“Yep,” Dean agrees. “It's located in the Fort Tyron Park and looks like this cool Medieval European convent. Lots of art and there's also a nice garden and, I mean, you know me, I'm not much for museums, but this one is actually pretty amazing, it feels a bit like you're traveling back in time and all that stuff …” He clears his throat and stops himself before he starts to get lost in another series of rambling. “Well, Benny knows a guy who knows the director of that place and we pulled some strings – so yeah, tonight after closing we have the place all to ourselves. If you're up for it, I mean.”

When he came up with the plan there was never a doubt in his mind that Cas and his nerdiness would be all over this idea, but Dean still can't help feeling a bit self-conscious now.

As expected, though, Cas' eyes light up at those words instantly. “So you're saying you rented a museum just for the two of us?”

Dean smirks crookedly. “Only the best for you, babe.”

Cas scoots a bit closer and pats Dean's knee. “You definitely know how to pick an unforgettable date, I'll give you that.”

Dean bites his bottom lip and tries not to get too excited over this.

 _We're still just joking around_ , he reminds himself.

But as Cas rambles on with a big smile on his face, about art and architecture and museums in general, and just looks happy all around it's really hard for Dean to hold onto that thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sighs in frustration*
> 
> Look at those idiots! Already making wedding plans, working on their guest lists, and discussing their honeymoon!!
> 
> As I said before, men are utterly useless sometimes >.<
> 
> Thankfully with each chapter we're getting closer and closer to the moment those morons will FINALLY figure some stuff out …
> 
> For now, though, I hope you had fun with the chapter!!
> 
> And a big thank you to 21toeternity for suggesting the Cloisters Museum after I have been undecided about the exact location of their “date” for weeks on end *hugs you tightly*
> 
> Until next time then!
> 
> **EDIT: "Thanks" to my laptop having some last-minute performance issues right on time for Tuesday evening there will unfortunately be no new update until further notice 😫**
> 
> **It might very well just be a driver issue or something, but for now there is no way for me to tell. I just hope it'll resolve itself soon!**
> 
> **For further news you're more than welcome to visit me on[tumblr](http://peanutbutterjelly-pie.tumblr.com) and/or check out this story's particular tag [HERE](http://peanutbutterjelly-pie.tumblr.com/tagged/starstruck)!**
> 
> +
> 
> **EDIT 2: Well, the issue resolved itself (for now)! At least all the data is saved and the new chapter will be up tonight :D**


	28. Poughkeepsie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my friends *waves excitedly*
> 
> Sorry again for the delay <.< I have seriously no idea what happened. I just came back from work after my late shift and fired up my laptop to upload the new chapter – and the screen remained completely black. I tried all the key combinations I could think of (and some more I found suggested on the internet), but nothing worked.
> 
> OF COURSE right on time for Tuesday night because what else could it have been, right? 
> 
> And naturally also just when I completely forgot to back up the wrapped up chapter and basically had just the one copy on that very laptop >.< So there I was, with a black screen, the chapter so near and yet so far away!
> 
> Today, however, as I turned on the laptop again and tried a few of those key combinations once more the computer suddenly started as though nothing out of the ordinary ever happened, the bastard!
> 
> I don't know what caused it – a fluke, an update, driver issues, something else entirely – and I certainly don't trust the peace but will instead triple save my data from now on, just to be safe. I guess that was a heart-stopping lesson for me not to slack again >.<
> 
> But yeah, here we are now! A day later, but still fresh and shiny and ready to mingle :D
> 
> So I hope you have fun with Dean and Cas on their “date” ;D
> 
> -

Leave it to Dean to select the quietest, most serene place in all of loud and hectic New York City.

Castiel vaguely heard about The Cloisters before, but he never really gave it much thought in the grand scheme of things. Now, though, he's standing in the middle of a beautiful garden and looks at a building that appears so much like a late Medieval convent right out of Europe it indeed feels as if he traveled back in time. The noises of the huge city are merely a faint memory, almost out of place in this peaceful world.

Castiel finds himself smiling. This is utterly perfect and Dean definitely knows him better than he ever thought possible if this is the spot that prominently came to his mind when he considered where to take his friend.

“You like it?” Dean actually seems to brim with excitement right beside him, more than keen on hearing Castiel's verdict. “'Cause Sammy really liked it when I first brought him here and I figured you might enjoy it as well …”

Castiel senses something warm spreading within his chest at Dean's childlike enthusiasm. “So I'm not the first one you took here?” he teases. “I'm wounded. I believed I was special.”

Dean huffs at that.

“You _are_ ,” he states, something wavering in his voice Castiel can't really depict. “I've been here with Sam _way_ back. When I still could show around my face and nobody recognized me. We were just mere tourists and squeezed ourselves inside with the rest of the masses.”

It sounds almost ridiculous now – especially with the memory of them meeting Dean's overly eager fans just a few hours ago fresh in his mind – and Castiel isn't exactly sure whether he should laugh about it or not.

“So you scooped the place out before, deemed it worthy of my time and then went all out and rented it for the night just for the two of us?” Castiel summarizes, once again touched by all the effort Dean is going through for him.

And as expected Dean is all modest and casual about it as he replies, “Yeah, I mean. Seemed like a good idea.”

It surely is.

“Just you and me,” Dean repeats with a smile. “And, y'know, Gadreel.”

He inclines his head to the man standing in the background at a polite distance keeping their surroundings under close surveillance while at the same time granting them all the privacy they need.

“I don't mind him,” Castiel says with a chuckle.

“Just be glad Charlie didn't insist on coming with us,” Dean adds. “That would've become awkward at some point.”

Charlie excused herself a while ago to meet up with a “hot date”, as she happily announced to everyone close by. And though Castiel surely enjoyed her company and felt sad seeing her go, a part of himself also was a little relieved to not have her accompany them to the museum. The whole time they drove through New York she had been shooting not so subtle glances at him and Dean with a sort of gleeful expression on her face and it reminded Castiel way too much of Meg and her meddling ways to be entirely comfortable with it.

He just wants to enjoy his time with Dean and not think about people taking the _Mystery Crush_ debacle way too seriously.

“Do I actually want to know how much it costs to let us in for a private tour so late at night?” Castiel can't help asking because despite his joy of being here it always weighs on his conscience if someone spends unnecessary money on him.

Dean, however, waves him off immediately.

“Dude, don't stress yourself over it,” he insists. “Remember? How I told you I'd spoil you when you'd come over to my place? Here we are now.”

He spreads his arms to include the entire building in front of them.

“Besides, it's a _donation_ , dumbass,” Dean adds with a chuckle. “It's for the arts. And stuff.”

Castiel finds himself smirking again. “You're a true words smith.”

“You know me, babe. I'm the whole package deal.”

Castiel rolls his eyes and wonders about the weird flutter in his chest whenever Dean uses one of those ridiculous over-the-top pet names.

“Let's go then, shall we?” Dean bows dramatically, like a noble man asking for a dance. “Please impress me with your vast knowledge of Medieval art and architecture.”

“I'm actually not that well versed –”

“Oh bullshit, I'm sure you're able to woo my pants off with a detailed report of that arch's history over there,” Dean cuts in with a huff, gesturing at the arch in question. “Or that painting of that gloomy dude over there. Or that statue right at the corner –”

While he continues to point out every single thing in his way, obviously more than confident that his friend will be a better source of information about it than the people actually working in this museum, Castiel can't help it when his gaze drops to Dean's pants and a fleeting thought crosses his mind of “wooing them off”.

It might be interesting to see, he has to admit.

From a scientific point of view, of course.

“C'mon, c'mon,” Dean urges, once again a giddy kid ready to conquer the world. He grabs Castiel by the wrist and pulls him inside the building, keen on getting this show on the road. “We're not getting any younger here.”

The museum is just as gorgeous from the inside as it is from the outside. Everything is open and connected with nature, but at the same time it's also its own little world. There are airy cloisters with precious art lining the path, there is a little cathedral nestled into the building's structure, there are valuable artifacts everywhere on display.

Castiel barely knows where to look first and finds himself rather grateful to be all alone in this place. Usually with huge groups of people gathering around one place all at the same time it gets crowded quite quickly and you oftentimes don't have the time you actually want to admire the expositions in all its detail.

But now it's only Dean and him and Dean seems more than happy to indulge Castiel. Even when Castiel stands about ten minutes in front of an old manuscript, curious to decipher as much about that old writing as possible, Dean doesn't complain once. He just waits patiently and eventually strolls off a bit further down the room to let his gaze wander. Always close by, though, never out of sight.

All and all it's rather peaceful and Castiel can't help imagining the next time Dean could use his influence to get them such an amazing place all for themselves. He finds himself feeling fairly spoiled indeed.

And he could definitely get used to this.

  
  


\---

  
  


It seems Dean's plan is a huge success.

Dean grins smugly as he watches Cas drinking in all the impressions around him greedily. He looks like he belongs here, like he has no issue picturing himself spending the rest of his days here.

Dean's been pondering for weeks before what he could do with Cas in New York to get him into a constant state of awe. As someone with a very recognizable face his options unfortunately turned out to be rather limited – at least if he didn't want any attention by the local public – and for a long while he really wondered whether there could be something worthwhile for him to personally show Cas outside of their car.

It's eventually been Benny who mentioned The Cloisters. It was merely a side note to a whole different story, but Dean found himself immediately remembering the last and only time he had been to that very place. Sam nearly had a nergasm seeing it and even Dean had to admit he was rather impressed by everything going on there. The atmosphere, the building, the garden – it's been vastly different than anything else around here and something he honestly didn't expect to find in New York.

So yes, an idea was born and Dean couldn't help asking himself whether he'd be able to make it true somehow. Thankfully, though, as always, Benny knows a guy who knows a guy and after a bit of persuasion and donations and good words and preparations the date was set and done.

And now they're here and Cas seems even more giddy about this stuff than Sam back then and in his mind Dean pats himself on the back on a job well done. It appears he remembered the one spot in New York even a guy like Cas, not too pleased with crowds, can have a good time in.

So Dean smiles as he lazily strolls after Cas, having no problem whatsoever to let him take the lead. As mentioned Cas's not _that_ much of an expert of Medieval art, but that seems to spur him on even more. He drinks in every single bit of information he can find and more often than not asks his phone for further advice. He probably used google in the last hour more than ever before in his life and Dean just feels glad at all the enthusiasm.

The guy deserves to be treated to something nice and Dean is determined to make his stay with him those next few weeks as enjoyable as possible. Cas takes care of so many people in his life, his kids back at home as well as the ones back in school, and he totally earns the right to be pampered for a change.

And Dean will see to it.

Distracted by his own thoughts he didn't even realize where he was headed, only half consciously following Cas around. So he has absolutely no idea how it happened, but when he turns around again Cas is suddenly standing way closer to him than he expected. Chest to chest, actually.

If it would have been anyone else Dean would've flinched back right away. However, since it's Cas he freezes on the spot, his whole body clamming up while thousand different voices in his head scream at him at the same time.

And he can't do anything against his eyes automatically flickering to Cas' lips.

Because they are there and so full and chapped, yet still somehow soft looking …

Dean just _really_ wants to check whether they're soft …

Preferably with his own lips …

Yeah, that would be nice …

Cas, in the meantime, doesn't show any intentions to step away either. He only stares at Dean, his eyes squinted as though he's trying to figure out a complicated puzzle.

Dean finds himself licking his own lips and feels his heart nearly bursting out of his chest as Cas' gaze follows the motion with quite a bone-chilling intensity.

“Uh, Cas?” Dean eventually manages to croak, his voice barely recognizable.

“Yes?” Cas sounds calm. Like it's a completely normal occurrence to share some breathing air with your buddy only inches apart. Like personal space is just a joke nobody should take too seriously.

Dean swallows.

“Um …”

What is he supposed to say in such a situation?

_This might be weird and awkward, but hell, I like having you close and I hope you feel the same?_

_Would you terribly mind if I'd test the softness of your lips? With my own lips?_

_Fancy making out?_

_How about I drag you into the nearest broom closet and we spend the rest of eternity there?_

Yeah, none of that flies, obviously. But it doesn't stop Dean's brain from coming up with them anyway.

Because he's apparently pathetic like that.

“Uuuhhh …”

Dean starts to fidget and yet can't bring himself to put some distance between them. On the contrary, he even leans in a little closer.

Encouraged by the fact that Cas doesn't seem freaked out by the proximity. Not at all. More like fascinated. As if this is an interesting turn of events and he would like to analyze the situation further.

Like he's maybe thinking about checking out Dean's lips' softness for himself as well …

But before anything remotely in that direction can even happen suddenly Gadreel's voice booms through the hallway. “Poughkeepsie!”

Dean winces and nearly has a heart attack before his instincts take over for him. Without even risking to look back he grabs Cas by the arm and pushes him into a nearby niche. It's quite narrow, but it's secluded and fairly hidden and for now that's all Dean cares about as he squeezes both of them inside.

Cas, thankfully, doesn't put up any fuss at being manhandled like that. Sure, he's all tense and clearly bewildered, but he goes easily with Dean. Even as it gets especially tight and they're basically nose to nose he doesn't even bat an eye.

He just falls quiet, obviously realizing right away that silence is of the essence right now.

“What is going on?” he whispers after a while, his gaze flickering between Dean and the spot Gadreel just disappeared out of sight. “Why is he talking about Poughkeepsie?”

Despite the situation Dean can't help a little chuckle at the utter confusion written all over Cas' face. He has to confess, from an outsider point of view this whole thing must look pretty bizarre.

“It's a code word,” Dean explains in a low voice. “It means 'drop everything and hide'.”

Cas blinks at him. “A code word?”

Dean shrugs. “We figured it would be faster that way if anything goes down. We've got a bunch of them.”

Cas seems to mull this over in his head for a hot second, probably evaluating all the valuables of such a personal system, and in the end he nods his approval. “Smart,” he admits.

And then he scoots even closer to Dean to get out of anyone's line of sight and basically aligns his entire body with Dean's. At least there are limbs touching and breath skidding over Dean's skin due to the proximity and Dean can actually feel his brain cells going out of order one by one.

 _Damn_.

He tries to focus on something else, _anything_ , but Cas is warm and so intense and that stupid waistcoat is still making Dean crazy, even after hours of looking at it constantly and obviously failing to develop any kind of immunity to its hotness, and Dean just feels his concentration slipping. His fourteen-year-old self would have killed for such an opportunity and it seems so overwhelming all of a sudden Dean morphs into a flustered and inexperienced teenager again.

“So what do you think is happening right now?” Cas whispers, his lips nearly brushing Dean's temple. “Did your fans follow you and are now invading the museum?”

He shifts around a little to peak around the corner and grazes some parts of Dean in the process that make the actor take a hissing breath and wonder whether it might be actually possible for the ground to swallow him whole right now.

“Uh … I dunno,” Dean presses through his teeth after a way too long uncomfortable pause. “Perhaps … yeah, fans … or the press …”

It could be anyone. Stalkers, crazy fans, paparazzi, just the unsuspecting janitor who's making his rounds.

Right now Dean doesn't give a flying fuck.

Not with Cas basically climbing him like a tree.

(Well, to a certain degree, at least.)

Dean tries to concentrate on what is going on, but apart from Gadreel's voice seemingly far in the distance he's barely able to catch anything. However, his bodyguard doesn't sound overly agitated – Dean undoubtedly would've noticed _that_ even miles away because that guy can be one scary and loud motherfucker if he wants to be – so Dean doesn't see any reason to become highly alarmed about this.

Cas, though, isn't familiar with these kinds of situations and starts to look a bit worried.

“It'll be alright,” Dean assures him. “Nobody's gonna see you.”

Cas meets his gaze with utter puzzlement written over his features. “I'm worried about _you_ , Dean,” he insists. “Nobody gives a damn about someone like me.”

There are so many things wrong with this statement Dean feels downright insulted by it.

“Don't say that –”

“Well, I'm not the one who ends up being recognized on the street,” Cas – rightfully – points out. “So whoever is out there right now is here _for you_. I'm just the guy who is coincidentally standing next to you.”

Well, he's also _Steve_ , the goddamned _Mystery Crush_ everyone is talking about. The one news story the reporters are totally drooling over.

But it's also true that nobody knows Cas' face or is aware of the fact that _Steve_ is in New York with Dean right now. For anyone following them around hoping for a quick picture Cas might very well just be a random man, only one of Dean's bodyguards, and nothing more.

The sudden sound of footsteps approaching makes Cas tense up rather spectacularly and before Dean even knows what's happening Cas grabs him by the collar and pushes Dean's face right into his neck.

And Dean stops breathing.

On a logical level he knows that Cas is just stupidly protective again and wants to shield him off from whoever is closing in on them. Guard his identity to not see him on the front page of some magazine the very next day. Dean wouldn't even have been surprised if Cas would've eventually hissed and snarled like an angry mother cat at anyone stepping too close.

Yeah, from a rational point of view Dean should've expected something like that.

But he still finds himself deeply unprepared for basically _everything_ that is going on right now. Cas' hand on the back of his head, keeping Dean protected and safe. His body all strained, ready to act whenever necessary. His breathing steady and unwavering.

And Dean just needs all his strength not to whimper. Because they're _so close_ and he can fucking _smell_ Cas and it's utterly amazing and intoxicating and Dean is pretty sure this is how he dies …

And then Gadreel's voice suddenly sounds, “Okay, guys, we're all clear.”

Dean blinks, for a moment way too overwhelmed by everything to move. Cas seems to feel a similar way as he fails to twitch even a single muscle at first. They stay plastered against each other, drinking in all the different sensations of their proximity.

It's only when Dean makes himself clear that Gadreel is standing right there, probably looking right at them and judging the little cuddling session _hard_ , most likely already preparing himself to relay everything to Benny and Charlie afterwards, that Dean eventually achieves to pull back and step out of the tight niche.

He fixes his slightly rumpled clothes and tries to look as dignified and unaffected as possible. Not an easy task, but he didn't become an actor for nothing after all.

Gadreel, meanwhile, doesn't give away anything. The dude is absolutely expressionless, way harder to read than anyone Dean ever met before. _Including_ Cas.

So yeah, he has no idea what's going inside the man's head. If he's amused by the display of closeness, if he doesn't care and just wants to get this over with so he can go home, if he's secretly beginning to wonder what song would be the best for them to dance first to as newly wedded husbands.

It's impossible to tell.

“Um …” Dean mumbles, everything around him still smelling so much like Cas he has trouble focusing on anything other than that. “What … what happened?”

Gadreel stares at him for a long moment. “I heard some suspicious noises. So I figured it would be best for you to stay out of sight while I went investigating.”

Dean blinks.

Right.

That sounds reasonable.

“And? Who was it?”

He dreads the answer. He doesn't want Gadreel to end up spooked and cut their night short. Because unfortunately the man wouldn't hesitate to grab Dean and drag him out of this museum if he thought it necessary, no matter how hard and colorful Dean would complain about that.

And Dean seriously doesn't want this to be over so early. They're barely begun to roam the rooms and he wants Cas to have the experience he deserves.

Thankfully, though, a small smile plays over Gadreel's features. “Oh, it turned out to be nothing. Just two squirrels fighting rather loudly.”

Dean gapes at the man in front of him incredulously. “ _Squirrels_? Are you for real?”

Gadreel doesn't seem apologetic in the slightest. “They were _really_ loud,” he explains.

“Dude, _seriously_?”

Dean shakes his head, both in disbelief and exasperation, while Cas next to him chuckles, way too amused by the whole thing.

“I'm just doing my job here,” Gadreel says. “But I'm sorry if I interrupted something.”

And then he winks at Dean. It's only a small thing, but Dean almost chokes on his tongue as he remembers the moment right before Gadreel called out their code word.

With Cas so close to him, looking at his lips …

 _Jeez_ , this is getting far too much.

And Gadreel's knowing smirk is doing nothing to make him feel any better about it.

But then he becomes instantly distracted as he feels fingers interlacing with his. Dean tenses up and stares wide-eyed at Cas' hand suddenly in his, not at all prepared for such an occurrence out of the blue. Cas, however, doesn't seem bothered in the slightest as he enthusiastically gestures further down the hall.

“I think there might be some sort of little armory down there,” he says excitedly. “Forget the squirrels and let's go!”

And so he pulls Dean with him.

While Dean follows him in a daze and can't help a dumb smile.


	29. Shower Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -
> 
> Hey, my friends!
> 
> This time we're back on schedule :D
> 
> And with a normal working laptop again *throws confetti into the air* The true culprit in the end revealed itself to be the mouse, the little bastard, and as soon as I banned that one from being anywhere near my computer everything is running smoothly again ;D
> 
> So now, without further ado, have fun with the new chapter!
> 
> -

Their drive to Dean’s home in Clarksville is a quiet one.

It was rather late when they eventually left The Cloisters, close to midnight, and Castiel wouldn’t have minded staying in town overnight and set out the next day. Dean, however, insisted that he didn’t have a problem driving so late, finding himself way too awake to go to sleep anyway. Besides, he rightfully pointed out that he could easily navigate the streets of New York in the darkness without anyone recognizing him and Castiel surely had to admit that this was a reasonable argument to at least get out of the city.

Castiel would’ve been happy to just seek out of a little motel on the outskirts of New York, but Dean merely huffed at the suggestion and told him to buckle up for the next three hours on their way to Clarksville.

In the underground garage of Benny’s office they climbed into a silver Ford that looked, though well cared for, utterly unremarkable to all the other cars outside- And as Dean explained to him that had been the major reason why he got that one as a second vehicle in the first place. The Impala was too auspicious to drive around with in a place like New York, so Dean felt the need to get something as invisible as possible to easily blend in.

It’s noticeable right away that he cares for the car in his own way as he drives through the wide streets, but it’s clearly not the same affection as he has for the Impala. His “Baby” is his pride and joy, this car, however, is merely a means to an end.

It does its job, though. Rather perfectly.

They get out of town without anyone sparing them a single glance, even with a couple of people still out and about. And soon enough they rush along the highway in the dark, far away from the big city, and Castiel can’t help breathing a sigh of relief.

Of course he enjoyed his time in New York, but he’s glad to leave it behind in the end.

The next few hours remain relatively silent. Dean’s got his music on on a low volume, just enough to lull them in, and here and there he points at a few things and explains some landmarks, but overall it’s way too black outside to see anything anyway and Dean soon enough falls quiet all around.

Castiel shoots him glances more often than not, unable to help himself. His mind drifts back to the events in The Cloisters on its own accord, making it hard for him to focus on anything but that.

Naturally it’s been amazing. The atmosphere, the building, the expositions. Castiel had been in awe the entire time and felt so utterly grateful for Dean going through all these lengths to arrange such a special trip just for the two of them. Nobody has ever done anything remotely similar for him before and he felt so appreciated for the most part he barely knew how to handle it.

And then the incident happened.

Despite all the wonders The Cloisters truly is, _this_ is the moment Castiel's mind keeps getting stuck at. He replays it in his head over and over, analyzing it from all angles. Trying to make sense of it.

He can't really remember how they ended up so close to each other. Perhaps Castiel just turned around to ask a question and found himself way more in Dean's personal space than he anticipated. Or maybe they just bumped into each other by accident.

He's seriously unable to recall because his brain function dropped dangerously low after that. One moment he was enthralled by one of the art pieces, the next everything else around him was forgotten but Dean.

Surely Castiel had been close to Dean before. They hugged, sat next to one another on the couch, touched casually here and there. It shouldn't have been something new. Something exciting.

But somehow it was.

Instead of stepping back and apologizing for the intrusion Castiel found himself frozen on the spot, his gaze fixed on Dean's face and his endearing freckles. He tried to avert his eyes, not to be too intense about it, but it turned out to be a futile endeavor. He kept on staring and simply was incapable of stopping.

And Dean seemed to share the sentiment, it appeared.

Because he didn't pull away either. No, he met Castiel's gaze and something started to light up in his eyes that made Castiel shiver in a pleasant way right deep into his very core. Nobody had ever looked at him that way before and Castiel had no idea how to deal with this.

And when Dean licked his lips and Castiel couldn't help tracking the motion with curiosity spiking within him breathing suddenly became a rather difficult task. Like the sight of Dean's tongue let Castiel's entire body functions fail quite spectacularly.

Afterwards it got even worse with them having to squeeze into the tight niche, all pressed against each other, Dean's scent in his nose, his body radiating heat …

Yes, this whole thing surely had been an experience.

And Castiel has no idea how to interpret that interaction.

Part of himself wants to reach out to someone to get an outsider perspective of these events. Meg, maybe. Perhaps even Claire. But deep down Castiel already knows what they would say, what they would _insinuate_ , and he doesn't possess any strength to deal with such allegations.

Because that can't be it, right?

Dean can't be … well, interested in him in _that_ way, can he?

Of course he used to have a crush on Castiel – the whole freaking world knows about that by now –, however, that's been over twenty years ago. For Dean this must be nothing more than a fleeting, amusing memory at this point. At least he never said anything so far that might suggest otherwise.

But then again, he never mentioned the crush all that much. Castiel assumed this to be out of embarrassment for everything that went down with it and never pressed the issue, although now he can't help wondering if there is more to it than simple awkwardness.

If those feelings didn't just stay in the past like Castiel had thought.

Because it sure as hell looked for a moment there as though Dean had considered kissing him.

And Castiel is utterly confused by this.

Not only because it turns everything upside down and makes him question every single interaction he had with Dean so far, but also because for the last few hours Castiel was unable to stop pondering about what he would have done if Dean indeed would have leaned closer and pressed their lips together.

A part of himself is fairly insistent on convincing him that he would have rejected any such advances. Not in any cruel manner, of course, but in a polite, apologetic way. After all, they're friends and Castiel would never have dared to hurt him with harsh words, especially concerning such a delicate affair. Nobody is to blame for their feelings, no matter what.

Yes, for about five minutes Castiel was absolutely certain he would have acted just like that. Calm, civilized, like an adult in utter control.

But as he allows himself to think a bit more intently about this what-if scenario he finds himself musing about the weirdest things. Like how Dean's lips would feel like against his, what kind of noises he might make, if he would pull Castiel closer into a tight embrace, eager to feel all of him …

Castiel heaves a deep breath.

The next few weeks might become more difficult that he could have ever imagined.

  
  


\---

  
  


Dean sighs relieved as they finally reach Clarksville.

Not only because it's late at night and he really needs a nap to recharge his batteries, but also because the tension in the car had been growing and growing over the last few hours. Cas hadn't said much in all that time, but he had been _staring_ like a champ, all intense and focused like there was nothing more interesting in the entire universe than Dean's face.

And Dean tried to play it cool and not let it bother him, but with the events at the museum still so fresh he got nervous all over again and that didn't really go away for the next few hours. Thankfully at this time of night there hasn't been much traffic around since Dean is pretty sure he wasn't as alert due to all of that than he should've had been. And it would've been very hard to explain that he got himself involved in an accident only because the guy next to him kept on looking at him.

Yeah, the press would've had a field day with that.

Now, however, they're close to getting out of the confinements of the small car (which is actually pretty medium sized, but with someone as captivating as Cas inside everything suddenly turns tiny) and putting some distance between them again.

Not that Dean actually craves any distance between them, of course, but for now it seems preferable. Because at the end of the day Cas is a fairly blunt dude and soon enough he will actually _ask_ about what happened at The Cloisters. He's gonna want to talk about it, dissect it like a scientific experiment, and Dean seriously wouldn't like to see that happening while trapped in the car, with no chance to escape. Because cranking up the radio might work on Sam, but he highly doubts it would impress Cas much.

So when they finally make the last turn onto the gravel driveway that leads to his house Dean sends a grateful prayer above, to whoever is listening right now.

A few lights switch on, activated by several motion detectors that's been discreetly scattered all around the property (next to a cleverly devised security system Charlie designed herself after Dean's family, Benny and basically anybody else insisted on he'd get), and illuminate the rest of the way. It still takes another five minutes, far away from even the hint of a public road, before they reach their destination.

It's a small thing, barely just a cabin in the woods, but Dean instantly fell in love with it because of its reclusiveness and its proximity to Sam's place. Back when he bought it (under a false name since he wouldn't have dared to anyone catching even a whiff of his little secret haven) it hadn't been more than a ruin and even though everyone had told him how crazy he was for spending money on such a wreck instead of getting something a bit more solid Dean totally ignored every single one of them.

At that point in his life, just when he decided for himself to backtrack a bit and not throw himself into work like a maniac, he simply needed a project. And since working with his hands and fixing/creating stuff had always been a great passion of his – a passion he dangerously neglected in the first few years after his unexpected success – he saw more in that little house than askew door frames, a rotting porch and broken windows.

It was a future. A future he wanted to build for himself.

And it was a great way to calm his mind. At least tiling the bathroom or sealing the new wooden panels relaxed him in a way no spa visit could ever had achieved.

So when he finished the house eventually he actually was disappointed.

So much so, in fact, that a couple of months ago he started on building a huge garage right next to the cabin, both to protect his Baby from the elements and once again find some peace and quiet for himself in his own special way.

Cas stays silent as they park the car right next to the Impala and walk inside the house. His gaze drifts everywhere, eager to drink all the impressions in, and Dean already feels the awe radiating off of him in powerful waves.

“This is amazing,” Cas then finally says as he lets his hand glide over the kitchen counter. It's a special timber Dean found on a junkyard a couple of years back and eventually processed into cabinets and kitchen counters. Till this day probably the most beautiful thing he ever created.

“I mean, I've seen all the pictures you sent me of your place,” Cas assures. “But still, it looks even more breathtaking in person.”

Dean presses his lips into a tight line and tells himself not to blush at all the open praise. After all, he had more than enough time to prepare himself for such a reaction.

But then Cas sends him a smile, that gummy one, and Dean finds himself flushing nonetheless.

“This is just stunning,” Cas decides. “I can't wait to see it all.”

And Dean can't wait to show it off and squirm some more under Cas' genuine appreciation.

But right now it's very late.

“It's close to three in the morning,” he points out. “How about I'll show you your room and then we'll get some damned sleep first?”

At first Cas frowns, like something as mundane as sleep never even crossed his mind, but in the end he nods in agreement. “You're right, of course. You must be rather tired after driving for so long.”

Dean's actually quite used to staying in the car for a longer period of time and he doesn't feel necessarily exhausted right now also, but yeah, it's quite late and he seriously needs some alone time to process all the things that happened. So he agrees with Cas' assessment with an incoherent sound before pushing him and his luggage towards the stairwell leading to the second floor.

The guest room – or more like Sam's room considering 95% of the time he's the one occupying that room – is a nicely sized thing, going along with the interior concept of the rest of the house. Rustic, wood, warm colors. Overall Dean just wanted to go with a homey feeling. Something he wanted to feel comfortable in.

And by the way Cas' smile widens at the sight of his personal room for the next two weeks Dean dares to assume he feels the same about it.

“This is really nice,” he states. “I think I will be able to endure this place for the time being.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, smartass …”

Though he can't fight back a grin at seeing Cas _finally_ here, at his safe haven he's so far only shown a handful of people. When he built this place he never imagined that Cas would one day be one of them. Sure, he fantasized about it, from time to time, when nostalgia hit him hard and merciless, but back then it seemed like an impossible pipe dream to have Cas back in his life one day.

And now here he is standing, right next to the sheets Dean took way too long to pick out last weekend, much to Sam's chagrin, and it appears so natural, so _right_ , that Dean's chest starts to hurt at all the emotions on the verge of bursting out.

Yeah, it's _really_ time to take a step back and get a grip on himself again.

“My room is right across from yours,” Dean explains, determined to make this as quick as possible. “The bathroom is down the hall, towels right in the closet beside the door. Feel free to take anything you like. And you're also more than welcome to use the absurdly large bathtub I just couldn't bring myself not to buy. Or the shower. Or the hose in the garden. Whatever floats your boat, man.”

Cas snickers at that. “You're ridiculous, Dean …”

“I'm just saying, I'm about to take a shower,” he says. “So if you wanna go first, be my guest.”

“It's fine,” Cas waves him off. “I'm used to showering in the mornings anyway. Go ahead, I will go straight to bed after my evening routine, I think.”

“Okay, yeah,” Dean says, suddenly feeling nervous again. “Then, uh, good night. And stuff.”

Cas shoots him a warm smile. “Good night, Dean.”

Dean instantly flees to his room before he might do something he would only regret later.

For a moment he just drops onto his bed and listens to the sounds Cas makes. He hears him shuffling around and eventually walking toward the bathroom, taking care of his business before going to sleep. Dean waits and tries not to think at all, almost afraid of what might walk through his mind if he would allow it to run free and wild.

And in the end it doesn't take long for Cas to return back to his room and for Dean to spur into action.

He quickly grabs his sleeping clothes – an old shirt and some boxer shorts – and hurries into the bathroom, eager to see his strained muscles relax a little again. So he doesn't waste any time at all as he rips off his clothes, throws them into his laundry basket on the other end of the room, and turns to the shower.

He is unable to suppress a sigh of relief as he finally steps underneath the spray.

Next to what happened in The Cloisters the last few days already had been rather stressful before that – one appointment chasing another, publicity work, and then of course all the anticipation about Cas' upcoming visit – and Dean didn't really heed it any mind, his focus way too clear to get distracted by something as simple as fatigue. But now, as he allows himself to truly relax for the first time, he suddenly notices how tense he's been lately. Not just the last few hours.

Dean groans. He actually promised himself not to work himself into the ground again. The first couple of years of his career had been exhausting enough and he has no intention to get himself into an early grave. Stress and sleep deprivation is not something to joke about.

But sometimes, when he finds himself very eager to see a project finished, it happens to slip his mind and before he even realizes it he falls into old habits again. Thankfully he usually notices it pretty fast and adjusts his behavior accordingly, however, it still nags on him that he can't make it stop completely, so it seems.

This time, though, it's probably been mostly his nervousness for having Cas around. All alone, without any kids, just the two of them. And his talk with Sam about finally making a move sticking in his head the entire time. It made him truly jittery to even think about it.

And yeah, Dean totally intended to be subtle and take one tiny step after another, but as always Cas threw him off in the most spectacular way. Because originally Dean just wanted him to have a good time at the museum, play around with the term “date” a bit, and perhaps get his hand held almost casually on one occasion or two.

All in all rather innocent.

And Dean honestly had every intention to stick to his plans. But then Cas' proximity killed his last brain cells and all of a sudden he could only think about kissing the guy.

Considering the way his friend has been looking at him since then makes it absolutely clear that Cas totally knows what went through Dean's mind in that very moment.

Granted, Cas can be blind to certain social interactions at time and he might very well right now just be wondering whether he imagined all of that, but there is no doubt that he at least grasped on a certain level what was going on. Not even Cas is _that_ oblivious.

And now their weeks together might get really awkward before they even began.

Dean curses underneath his breath as he attempts to focus on washing his hair and body to get his mind off things for at least a little bit. It works for about two minutes, forcing himself to concentrate on the process of showering in such a manner like he never had before in his life, but soon enough his thoughts automatically drift back to Cas, and his full lips, and the expression on his face as Dean leaned in ever so slightly …

 _Dammit_.

This will be way harder than he could've ever imagined.

So that's probably why he finds himself distracted when he eventually steps out of the shower and all of a sudden bangs his toe against the edge's hard surface.

A piercing pain runs through his entire body, making him yell way too loudly before he can help himself. He squeezes his eyes shut and for a moment hops around the bathroom rather awkwardly on one leg, his injured foot hanging in the air.

And that's the moment the door abruptly flings open and Cas shows up right in front of him, an alarmed “ _Dean_!?” rushing out of his mouth.

Dean freezes right there on the spot, his eyes wide open in shock. At first he can't help thinking that he must look absolutely ridiculous, bending his body into weird angles and jumping around like an idiot. That's surely not a position he wants Cas to see him in.

And then, out of the blue, he remembers that he just came out of the shower.

He's still wet from top to bottom.

And very, _very_ naked.

 _Fuck_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I an evil meanie for stopping right here?
> 
> Yeah, I guess I am 😁
> 
> But hey, somehow I have to keep you on the hook, right? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	30. Chocolate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here we are again!
> 
> And since I left you in a really mean place the last time, I will forego any excessive speeches and just wish you lots of fun with the new chapter ^^
> 
> -

_Son of a bitch!_

Dean blushes furiously as he gapes at Cas' big blue eyes and instantly finds himself panicking and hyperventilating and also completely forgetful about where he put his towel. He recalls leaving it somewhere close, easy to grab, but right now Dean doesn't even have any clue what's up and down and therefore finding something as simple as a piece of cloth seems like an absolutely impossible task.

So he keeps on standing there, his foot in the air, his private bits on full display, and he wonders whether he should laugh or cry or simply die right here on the spot.

The latter sounds rather tempting, to be honest.

Cas, meanwhile, appears just as frozen as Dean at first, staring at his nude friend in stunned silence, like it didn't occur to him at all that running into someone in the bathroom without knocking first might force him to get confronted with some things he didn't sign up for.

There is a flush on his cheeks and Dean has no idea if it's due to embarrassment or perhaps something else, but before he is able to wrap his mind around that and freak out even more, Cas finally raises his voice and points out, “You screamed.”

It might be a statement, it might be an explanation, or maybe it's a simple accusation. Dean can't really say, his attention way too much fixed on his leg in the air and his junk far too prominent right now.

“Um,” he manages to say eventually. Quite the accomplishment, really. But after that nothing leaves his mouth apart from a tiny wheezing sound and his blush only gets stronger in the process.

“You're bleeding,” Cas says, once again his tone a complete mystery. He could very well just read the newspaper or something.

Dean blinks and takes a shamefully long moment to catch the meaning of his words. On first instinct he wants to reply, “Yes, my fucking heart is bleeding 'coz you have to see me like this,”, but thankfully he manages to refrain from causing further humiliation for himself. Instead he looks down on himself, following Cas' very intense gaze which settled way too close to Dean's private parts.

But Dean notices quickly that it's not his junk drawing Cas' interest but his very bloody toe. Obviously he teared his nail as he stepped out of the shower like a frigging professional and is bleeding all over the place now.

Dean finds himself surprised. Sure, he registered the pain, but Cas popping up unannounced surely made him blind for anything else.

“Oh,” he says dumbly as he tries to remember how to act in such a situation. About the injured toe, at least. How you have to act when your secret/not-so-secret-because-you-talked-about-it-on-national-television-for-everyone-to-hear crush walks in on you and witnesses you in all your naked glory is truly something nobody ever taught Dean.

“Sit down,” Cas grumbles, apparently agitated by Dean's incompetence to even master a simple shower. He nudges Dean towards the toilet – once again, far too close – and pushes him down on the seat, the determination in his features so frightening that Dean finds himself rendered even more speechless than before.

“Do you have a first aid kit around here somewhere?” Cas asks, his tone still on edge. Like he can't believe he just left his two kids behind only to have to take care of a third one.

Dean's flush increases as he gestures at a little cabinet underneath the sink.

While Cas turns around to get it Dean hastily grasps for a nearby towel which just caught his eyes. It's only a tiny thing, just something to dry your hands with, but it's seriously better than nothing at this point. So he hurries to spread it over his lap and sighs in relief, even though it barely achieves to cover the most essential stuff. Only one single motion and everything would be out in the open again, so he takes a heavy breath and forces himself not to move when Cas returns with a small first aid kit in his hand.

“How did you even survive before without me being around?” Cas wonders, both exasperation and fondness in his tone. It's a very odd combination and Dean takes a moment to differentiate those two quite different and yet so similar emotions.

“Um …” he responds eloquently, not really sure how his brain is even supposed to work.

And it only gets worse when Cas has the absolute audacity to _kneel down_ in front of him. Granted, from a rational point of view it makes all kinds of sense to get closer to the injured toe, but it's still a rather suggestive position and Dean's lower loin region starts to become rather hot. He feels his dick twitching, quite pleased by the picture on display, and Dean rushes to think of any unsexy thought he can imagine.

It's not easy with Cas just kneeling there and talking a mile a minute in that deliciously gravelly voice of his (Dean can't even tell what he's saying, it's only a buzzing hot noise at this point), so that in the end Dean has to dig deep into his memory and force himself to recall that moldy tuna sandwich again some stupid kid made him dare to eat once upon a time to get his primal urges somewhat under control.

_Dammit all to hell_.

“-ean?”

Dean blinks.

And then focuses on Cas with that tuna sandwich still in mind.

“Um, yeah?”

“Are you okay?” Cas wonders, concern evident in his features. He even leans closer and – _fuck!!_ – places his hand on Dean's knee. “Do you want to lie down for a bit? You look a little flushed.”

Yeah, no kidding.

Why again did he think it would be a good idea to spend some alone time with Cas? They're barely here for twenty minutes and Dean already feels like dying.

“I'm … uh, I'm fine,” Dean presses out through his teeth, shoving the memory of Mr. Lipton from his senior English class and his way too slack shorts onto the front of his mind. The reminder of that butt crack killed many boners in the past before and he really hopes it'll be efficient now as well.

“Are you sure you're okay?” Cas asks.

While his fingers move a little upwards. It's not even an inch, but Dean's body sings and his brain cries.

_Fuck_.

Not even the butt crack makes him immune to Cas' everything.

Dean can't help but quickly leaping to his feet while desperately gripping onto the miniature towel and praying that Cas is oblivious enough not to realize what is going on right now.

“I'm – I'm fine,” he stammers. “I just … I have this weird thing with blood and all.”

It's not even remotely true, but if this might help Cas not question his weird behavior, so be it. He'll pretend to be the biggest wimp around blood the world has ever seen.

“I see,” Cas says, his voice unfortunately not giving anything away. He also, _unfortunately_ , stays kneeling on the floor, with his face even closer to Dean's junk than before. “Is this a real phobia or are you just being a baby?”

Dean scowls.

And tries to fix his attention to the familiar banter.

“I'm _not_ a baby,” he objects with a pout. “I just … y'know.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “You're being difficult.”

“Don't be mean to me,” Dean growls. “I'm hurt and bleeding … and I'm also getting cold …”

It's a good argument, but it also makes Cas glance at his very hard nipples with curiosity and that's about the last thing Dean wants. Cas looking him over, checking him out – yeah, Dean is pretty certain he wouldn't survive that.

“Then how about you change into some clothes and _then_ I take care of your toe?” Cas proposes, clearly sounding like a man who is used to striking up compromises on a regular basis.

Dean can't help nodding way too enthusiastically. Sure, he's only got a shirt and his boxer shorts with him, but it would still feel better to actually be dressed in the first place. He'd always has time to freak out about the details later.

“Okay, I will get you some chocolate in the meantime,” Cas says. “I think you need some sugar in your system.”

Sugar.

Right.

Good.

Dean is pretty sure it's something completely different his system desires, but he certainly won't say that out loud. At least not without dying on the spot right a second later.

Thankfully, though, Cas is already out of the door before Dean is able to embarrass himself any further.

For a long moment Dean remains frozen on the spot, all naked and cold and yet _so hot_ all over, and just listens to Cas' retreating footsteps.

Inhales deeply.

Exhales.

And then Dean exclaims, “ _FUCK_!”, and wonders whether drowning himself in the shower now would be too melodramatic or not.

  
  


\---

  
  


_Chocolate._

_Chocolate …_

Castiel repeats the word over and over again in a never-ending loop in his mind as he finds himself in Dean's kitchen. It's something to focus on, something to hold on to. Something to keep his brain occupied.

Because otherwise he would go quite insane, he has to admit.

As he heard Dean screaming in pain inside the bathroom Castiel didn't think twice about storming right in. His protective instinct simply kicked right in and made him forget any propriety. Granted, he could have knocked and at least inquired through the closed door whether Dean was alright or not, but years as a father and a thorough experience of picking his kids up after they fell surely took their toll on Castiel bedside manners, so it seems.

And he ended up stunned by what he found.

Sure, it is to be expected to be sparsely clothed in the bathroom, especially during everything involving a shower, but walking in on Dean absolutely naked and jumping around with everything on display truly stopped Castiel in his tracks. Not because it wasn't something you don't anticipate to see in such a situation, but mainly because Castiel had no idea what to make of his own feelings in that moment.

He's seen grown men naked before. Also women, of course. And on those occasions he sometimes couldn't help admiring their aesthetic appearance. Their proportions, their skin, the shape of their curves, little flaws and nitpicks that made them even more attractive.

However, that was about it.

Just admiration.

But this time?

Castiel expected to feel the same with Dean because at the end of the day he has a beautiful body worthy to be praised. And Castiel definitely noticed several small details within the blink of an eye as he walked in on his friend like that. His strong biceps, the defined muscles on his thighs, the interesting tattoo on his chest, the tiny pudge at his tummy Castiel couldn't help deeming adorable even though he is quite sure Dean is rather self-conscious about it.

Yes, he spotted all these things in a matter of milliseconds.

And it made Castiel's system react in a very odd way.

All of a sudden he felt very hot and the urge to step right over there and _touch_ had been so overwhelming and surprising Castiel actually got dizzy there for a moment. He literally had to bite his tongue and focus on the pain to keep himself from invading his friend's space in such a blatant manner.

In the end he was almost happy to register the bleeding toe and fix his entire attention on something else than Dean's _everything_. He forced himself to activate his nursing instincts and went to work, his eyes only plastered on the injury as he completely ignored Dean's fumbling attempts to cover himself.

And now Castiel's standing in the kitchen, remembers that he has no freaking idea where that chocolate is even stashed, and is confused about his own body.

He still feels rather warm, especially after he can't help thinking about Dean's naked form again despite his best efforts, and there is a tightness in his groin area he's actually only used to when his body demands some pleasure and release after Castiel ignored it for too long.

And now all of this is coming alive in direct reaction to Dean.

Castiel finds himself frowning. Is _that_ what attraction feels like?

He knows it appears utterly ridiculous from an outsider point of view to be bewildered about such things as a divorced man, but the truth is his relationship with Daphne was never an overly physical one. Castiel never desired her in any way, at least not in the manner all those pop songs and media outlets are always describing it, and she was right there with him on that front. They enjoyed being with each other, they loved one another, but they didn't really have any urge to join their bodies in naked passion. Yes, they had sex occasionally, but mainly out of a need to be close. To share something with each other. And Castiel always liked it, but he never sensed some kind of thirst for it. People talking about how they're barely able to control their desires most of the time never ceased to be a complete mystery to him.

And he was totally fine with that.

Daphne and he were on the same page concerning that matter, so who needed sexual attraction when you had a solid connection? At some point in his life Castiel declared the whole issue redundant and unimportant for his existence.

He believed it not to be in his cards anyway.

Sure, he's never been an idiot about this, always understood the general concept of the whole thing, about attraction and pheromones and whatnot. He once wrote a piece of erotica for an English class in college that actually made their teacher blush and tell Castiel afterwards it was one of the best depictions of the subject she had ever read.

So yes, he gets it, in a certain way.

However, he never _felt_ it before. Not like that, anyway.

But now Dean turned his world upside down _again_ and Castiel has no idea what to make of it.

A part of himself just really wants to forget the entire thing ever happened and simply go on with his life. After all, it might very well be solely the aftereffect of that burrito he ate on the drive here and that tasted a little weird at the end. Or perhaps there is something floating in the air tonight, disturbing his brain functions. Or maybe he is reacting to the strong rustic smell in the house in a very strange manner.

There are probably lots of different explanations which might clear this up right away.

But another part of Castiel is truly fascinated by this turn of events. He always liked looking at Dean and his pleasant features and sometimes he caught himself staring a little bit more intently and a little bit longer than strictly necessary. He never exactly questioned this, though. He only presumed this to be the result of Dean's special charm and left it with that.

But perhaps these incidents truly had been something more than meets the eyes.

And not to mention the incident at The Cloisters, with them being so close and staring at each other's lips and neither of them eager to back down.

Now it has seemed to reach its peak, with Castiel ending up actually getting aroused by seeing Dean naked. By finding himself sexually attracted to him. By feeling a powerful want to touch him, roam his hands all over the man's body, and hear Dean make approving noises in response.

Huh.

Quite interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, looks like Cas is having some demisexual awakening 😏
> 
> And I really hope his thought process is comprehensible here. I know at the end of the day it's an individual experience for each person, but I figured for someone like Cas – in his prime, with kids and an ex-wife and a mortgage –, who stopped believing such emotions were something he would ever be able to feel, the whole thing must be kinda confusing and a bit overwhelming.
> 
> At least I can tell you, I'm ace myself and if I would ever feel even an ounce of what Cas is going through right now (HIGHLY unlike for me, but hey, it might happen nonetheless, right? ;p) I would have no freaking idea what to do with myself :D
> 
> So yeah, I tried to bring that across as best as I was able to.
> 
> And this is a big step for Cas in the right direction to finally catch up on a few things, so buckle up, my friends, it might get interesting 👀


	31. Reginald

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sighs in relief*
> 
> It feels like I've been on an odyssey today. They found a WW2 bomb in the city again just when I was on my way to work (because OF COURSE) and our train had to be rerouted and at some point we found ourselves in the wild lands, with no idea where we even were or how time works, and for a long while we were in this bubble of uncertainty, not really sure if we would ever return back home to our families.
> 
> Well, in the end I was almost 2 hours late for work, which was of course all kinds of not great >.<
> 
> And the evacuation took so long they weren't even finished to disarm the bomb yet when my work shift had ended, so I had to go through the whole thing all over again!!
> 
> So yeah, I'm actually surprised I made it back home at some point xD For a while I was pretty sure I would be lost in the nothingness forever!!
> 
> And so, to celebrate my return back home, here I bring you the new chapter :))
> 
> -

For a long while Castiel remains lingering in the kitchen and analyzes the issue from every angle imaginable, feeling floored and confused and also so very fascinated by everything that just went down. But eventually he manages to remember the time and the fact that Dean is still waiting in the bathroom, probably wondering why his friend is taking that long. So Castiel forces himself to spur into action, rummages through the different cabinets until he finds a chocolate bar and hastily rushes back to Dean.

Dean, who has put on his clothes in the meantime next to a large towel spread over his lap (and Castiel notices a pang of disappointment at that, even though it was him who made the suggestion in the first place) and is bend downwards to spray some antiseptic on his toe. Castiel apparently took so long in his quest to both find the chocolate and have a sexuality crisis that Dean had time to already clean the wound and wipe off all the blood.

“Dean, let me help you,” Castiel exclaims and instantly drops back to his knees in front of his friend, feeling quite guilty for making him wait so long he had to fend for himself. “I don't want you to pass out or something.”

Dean straightens up again and shoots Castiel a flat look. “I won't pass out, _jeez_. I'm fine.”

Castiel shoves the chocolate bar into Dean's hand and urges him to open it. “Just indulge me, would you?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “I just stubbed my toe, man. No reason to call the coast guard.”

Castiel can't help frowning in confusion at this illogical statement. “What would the coast guard have to do with this?”

“I'm just saying –” Dean studies him for a moment with an unreadable expression and eventually sighs in defeat. “Y'know, man, whatever. Do your thing, I can't stop you anyway.”

It's certainly true.

Castiel observes his friend for a moment – his still flushed cheeks, his freckles so dominant in the bright light, his eyes gleaming –, but eventually he forces himself to train his attention back on the wound, at least for the time being. It's not big by any means, just a little cut that bled way more than it had any right to, and Castiel takes no time at all to see it cared for. It doesn't even need any bandages, only a slightly larger band-aid.

“I'm sorry,” he finds himself saying after a minute of silence, just as he's wrapping up.

Dean blinks in confusion. “About what?”

“About earlier,” Castiel clarifies, keeping his gaze on Dean's foot to not have to look into his eyes. “About bursting into the room without knocking first.”

“Oh.” Dean clears his throat, suddenly sounding quite uncomfortable again. “I mean, yeah – it's okay – you heard me yelling and stuff –”

It surely awoke some protective instincts inside Castiel, fueled by over a decade of being a father. By now he's trained to leap into action automatically as soon as he hears a cry of pain.

“I guess it is in my blood by now,” Castiel explains. “Jack, for instance, has quite the tendency to bump into things and hurt himself.”

Dean makes an incoherent noise Castiel has no chance to decipher anytime soon. “Um, makes sense,” he mutters.

It's obvious he doesn't want to talk about it. Most likely just forget anything ever happened and go on with his life without ever mentioning it again.

Of course this is absolutely the opposite of what Castiel wants. But Dean is currently rattled and embarrassed and still truly exhausted from a long day and their drive to Clarksville and Castiel surely wouldn't want to make him uncomfortable any further. At least not in the state he is in right now. That wouldn't be fair to him.

“You feeling any better?” he asks instead, nodding his head at the already halfway eaten chocolate bar in Dean's hand.

Dean, apparently relieved that the attention is diverted from his naked adventure at least for the moment, merely scoffs. “I'm fine,” he insists. “And this really wasn't necessary, by the way. It's not like I was bleeding to death or something.”

“You could've fooled me,” Castiel teases. “I mean, your high-pitched scream alone –”

“Don't act like you're on any high horse!” Dean cuts him off with a pout. “Stubbing your toe is one of the worst pains humankind has ever experienced, you know that as well as I do.”

“I'm pretty sure lots of people, especially women, will _wholeheartedly_ disagree on that one,” Castiel points out with a chuckle.

Dean rolls his eyes. “Okay, _fine_ ,” he relents. “Stubbing your toe is one of the worst kinds of pain _whimsy men_ like you and me have ever experienced. Happy now?”

“Ecstatic.”

“Wonderful.”

“But I'm wondering …”

“ _What_?”

“Do you need help walking?” Castiel asks, batting his eyelashes way too innocently. “Considering all this pain and such …”

Dean bares his teeth at him. “You're a dick, man.”

“Should I carry you to your bed? Like a damsel in one of those romance dramas –”

“Screw you!”

“I could be your knight in shining armor, my love.”

Dean seems to be thrown off for a millisecond there, most likely more by the unexpected endearment than the statement itself – and isn't that highly interesting? –, but he catches himself rather quickly and snorts right into Castiel's face. “Just cut the crap, sweetheart, how about that?”

And just to prove his point he raises up all on his own.

Looking ridiculously smug for a moment before the towel in his lap begins to slip and he hastily grabs onto it to not end up just in his underwear for Castiel to admire. He actually clings on it so tightly his knuckles turn white and Castiel can't help finding that development fairly intriguing.

After all, Dean has never been known for being prude. Granted, he probably appreciates his privacy like everyone else, but he's never been overly shy about his body. So under normal circumstances Castiel would have totally expected Dean to walk out of this bathroom in just his boxers and light shirt, with his head held high. Trying to hide the awkwardness of the situation by acting like his own cocky self, even if deep down he might feel completely different about the issue.

But now he holds onto the towel like it's a lifeline and Castiel can't keep himself from wondering why. Did Dean simply forget his underwear and he is actually still naked under there? Or is there something else he doesn't want Castiel to see?

Castiel tilts his head and wonders what that could be.

“Uh, I'm – I'm gonna go now,” Dean stammers as he vaguely gestures with his free hand in the direction of his bedroom. “I'm, um –”

Castiel takes a deep breath and fights down the urge to talk about this. Telling himself over and over that Dean would only crawl back into his shell if Castiel would even so much as hint at a serious conversation about this topic. They're both not really in any condition to see eye to eye right now and not have this end in disaster. And Castiel would very much hate to ruin his visit before it even really had begun.

So instead of voicing his feelings Castiel merely smiles sweetly and says, “You should brush your teeth first before going to bed. You just ate a chocolate bar.”

For a moment Dean stares at him almost incredulously. Like he can't honestly believe Castiel has even the strength to remember such things.

But then he huffs and thankfully appears to relax some more faced with such normalcy. “Yeah, yeah, _Mom_ ,” he grunts, affections swinging in his tone. “Get outta here, man.”

And so Castiel does because at the end of the day he doesn't want to crowd on his friend more than he already did. But he can't help shooting one last smirk over his shoulder and announce, “Just call me if you need any help, honey. Don't forget, you're majorly injured.”

Dean throws him a hard glare. “You're the worst, buddy.”

Castiel winks at him. “I know.”

And then he walks out, feeling both lightheaded by their usual banter and also kinda overwhelmed by everything that came to light tonight.

It seems there is a lot of stuff he has to think about now.

  
  


\---

  
  


And he thinks about it a lot.

It's been already late at night – or very early in the morning, depends on how you want to look at it – and as Castiel finally slipped underneath his covers and allowed his mind to rest he imagined it would take him no time at all to find some much needed sleep.

But his brain clearly had other plans and so it happens that over an hour later Castiel is still lying wide awake in his bed. The mattress is beyond comfy, the room is homey, the temperature in the room is not too hot and not too cold – overall the perfect environment to let loose and sink into deep slumber. However, as soon as he tries to close his eyes thousand pictures run Castiel's head, keeping him up.

Up front is the image of Dean all naked, of course. Because Castiel's entire system is still so rattled by the effect that sight had on him it's no wonder it became so popular in his own mind.

But there are a lot of other things, too. Instances Castiel didn't think too much about before and now suddenly can't help analyze in great detail. How he simply took Dean's hand in The Cloisters and somehow managed to ignore both the warm emotion it sparked inside himself as well as the weirdly dazed expression on Dean's face when Castiel yanked him along. Or that one morning at Castiel's house when their feet collided several times underneath the breakfast table and Castiel actually considered “playing footsies” because he's never done it before but heard so much about it. Or when Dean convinced him to watch that way too realistic horror movie and Castiel steadily gravitated closer to his friend's warm and safe presence until he almost ended up on his lap.

And the casual touches that might not be so casual after all. And the constant pet names which might be just friendly teasing, but also might very well point at something deeper. And the long stream of phone calls and text messages and their desire to share every single detail about their lives with one another …

Yes, there is a lot Castiel never really considered before.

And now he can't stop doing that.

At almost five AM in the morning. The sun is about to rise soon and Castiel feels just so very tired and yet more awake than ever before in his life.

He seriously has no idea what to do and honestly begins to wonder whether he should skip sleep entirely for today. After all, it doesn't seem to be in the cards for him this time around.

And that is the moment when he suddenly hears a noise right outside underneath his window.

Castiel finds himself freezing, for a long while trying to tell himself it's just the wind, nothing to worry about – and then the noise gets louder, turning into a distinctive shuffling sound that's quite uncharacteristic for a breeze of air.

No, there is something at his window.

Or someone.

Rationally Castiel knows they're safe. Dean told him before about the security system he had installed, making it therefore probably next to impossible for someone to sneak up on the house without being noticed. Castiel knows Dean has a silent alarm sent directly to his phone as well as a rather loud siren blaring he always activates late at night before going to bed. So someone creeping around the cabin surely would've triggered the system by now.

Ergo it's most likely really just the wind. Or perhaps some animal scuffing around.

Castiel takes a deep breath and attempts to calm himself. Yes, they're all alone out here, no light or traffic noises, and that might be a bit scary for someone who isn't used to such a level of quiet, but there is no reason to freak out over nothing. After all, Dean had been living here for years without any issues. Castiel doesn't see why that should change now of all things.

It's highly improbable to assume –

But before Castiel is even able to finish that thought the noise gets louder.

And closer.

Castiel would have liked to stay levelheaded and cool, but it's probably a mixture of exhaustion and nerves that makes him leap out of his bed and run over to Dean's door in a heartbeat. Deep down he realizes he's being ridiculous and he should take a minute to mull this over before waking his friend because of something trivial as some night sounds, but in the last couple of hours his brain had remained awfully quiet within the logic department, only too happy to let emotions take over.

And as Castiel knocks on Dean's door and instantly walks into the room without waiting for an answer, it's been clearly not his brain making any decisions.

He half expects to walk in into yet another compromising situation like before and for a brief second he actually finds himself a little disappointed to be faced with a clothed and sleeping Dean before he hastily shakes that thought off of him and scolds himself for being so foolish.

 _Get a grip, Novak,_ he chastises himself.

And then he pauses _because he is in Dean's room_ , right in the middle of the night (and also way too early in the morning), like a little child frightened by some noises.

 _Dear Jesus_.

Castiel groans, absolutely disappointed in himself and his terrible way to deal with the situation, but still somehow incapable of stopping himself from stepping next to Dean's bed and lean closer.

 _Great_.

Dean looks utterly peaceful in his sleep, his features prominent due to the bright moonlight shining through the window, and Castiel can't help thinking he could easily imagine himself watching that face for hours without ever tiring. Granted, he's quite aware that this is a quite creepy thought and he seriously shouldn't indulge in such an exercise ever, but for a moment it's nice to pretend.

And then Dean starts to stir.

Castiel makes a horrified sound and is just about on the verge of rushing out of the room and act like none of this ever happened when Dean sleepily murmurs, “Cas?”

Castiel bites his bottom lip and evaluates his options. Fleeing like a stupid coward is naturally still on the table. Dean might be confused, but surely would shrug it off as a dream and drift off to sleep soon enough again. But Castiel could also simply explain the situation and hope that Dean wouldn't be too angry with him for just invading his personal space in such a manner. After all, Dean is a very kindhearted man, he surely would understand Castiel's predicament.

Or – and Castiel can't believe such a train of thought even crosses his mind – he could just climb into bed with the man and kiss him. Merely to see how it would feel.

Yes, that option is clearly not up front and center. But that doesn't stop it from demanding to be heard in the most insisting manner possible.

“... Cas?” Dean mutters again, his eyelids fluttering open as he stares at the new person in his room in quite a daze. “What're doin' here?”

His voice is slurred, a little incoherent. He's obviously still more asleep than awake.

“Um, I …” Castiel squirms awkwardly. He feels torn, between staying and running for the hills, and for a long moment he has honestly no idea what to do. No matter what, it would be embarrassing.

“Cas?” There is a note of worry in Dean's tone now. It seems he tries to lift his upper body, even though his entire system is still terribly sluggish.

“I … there was a noise, at my window,” Castiel hurriedly explains, despite everything not keen on making his friend concerned. “I – I'm sorry, I'm sure I overreacted …”

“A noise?” Dean furrows his brows and Castiel refuses to declare it adorable.

“It's fine, I'm sure it's just the wind or some animal –”

Dean blinks. And then he says, “Reginald.”

Castiel frowns. Whatever he expected, that answer definitely doesn't make any sense. “What? Who's Reginald?”

He can't help shivering, suddenly wondering whether there is _really_ a person out there, right underneath his window –

“Reginald is a raccoon that lives somewhere close by,” Dean says, yawning quite impressively. “Comes out late at night and stuff. Sammy named him Reginald … dunno why …”

He trails off again, sleep taking him over once more after making sure there hadn't been an issue to worry himself about.

While Castiel stays right next to his bed and feels fairly dumb. “Oh, I see,” he mumbles. “I – I'm sorry for waking you, then. I just – I'm not used –”

Dean meets his gaze. “You were scared?”

Castiel can't fight a blush and deems himself grateful for the moonlight not being strong enough to display too much of his body's state. “Well, yeah, a little bit …” he confesses.

And that's apparently all Dean needs to hear to spur into action.

Because suddenly his arm snaps out from beneath the covers quicker than Castiel could have ever thought possible and before he even knows what is happening Dean's hand wraps around his wrist and tugs.

Castiel loses his footing and yelps in surprise as he finds himself dropping onto the bed right beside Dean. He is mortified right away and hastily tries to get into an upright position again, but he doesn't get any chance as Dean instantly pulls him in deeper. Strong arms cling tightly to Castiel's torso, making it absolutely impossible for him to get out of there.

Sure, Dean is acting in a daze, more on instinct than anything else, but he seems rather determined to keep Castiel by his side, no matter what.

Castiel struggles and curses underneath his breath, but Dean doesn't budge.

No, he only tightens his grip and mumbles, “… no need t'be scared … protect ya …”

Castiel immediately stops his squirming and notices something very warm exploding in his chest. Dean, even though 98% asleep, still feels so utterly protective over him that he wants Castiel to stay safe. To be close, so he can take care of him and make sure everything is alright.

Castiel presses his lips into a thin line and tries desperately to control the wave of powerful emotions washing over him.

While simultaneously relaxing in Dean's strong embrace.

Deep down he knows he would either be able to wiggle out of it eventually, especially with Dean already drifting deeper into sleep, or simply find some way to wake Dean and make him aware of the situation. Dean surely would back off right away and apologize profusely for at least the next few days.

In the end Castiel does neither.

For one he doesn't want Dean to feel bad about this. Unfortunately that stupid man has the habit of getting hung up on the most ridiculous things. He wouldn't just laugh the incident off with minimal humiliation but rather beat himself up over it in a very strange manner. And that's about the last thing Castiel wants.

And he also doesn't really want to leave Dean's arms in the first place.

Yes, he knows he might be selfish and foolish, but the thought of returning to his dark room with that loud raccoon right underneath his window actually isn't that appealing. No, in Dean's embrace he feels protected and safe in a way he can't ever remember experiencing and so instead of pulling away he simply puts the covers over both of them and inhales deeply.

Telling himself he's way too weak and exhausted to fight Dean's grip anyway a small smile flickers over his lips and soon enough he falls asleep as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, at some point there just HAD to be some bed sharing, right? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	32. Nice Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, my friends!!
> 
> At first I wanna apologize for not responding to all of your lovely comments. Please don't feel left out or anything, but I haven't been feeling great lately (dizziness, fatigue) and looking at a computer screen for a longer period of time just doesn't work right now >.< Which sucks because I love to interact with you guys!
> 
> But please know that I appreciated every single one of your nice words and I love you for it <3
> 
> And also please send a big thank you to past!me for wrapping this chapter up before I came down with whatever I'm coming down with, because otherwise I'm not so sure we would be here today ^^' So yeah, being prepared for a change really made the difference this time around ;D
> 
> Then there is nothing left for me to say than have fun!!
> 
> -

Dean slowly wakes up.

And realizes right away that he's not alone in his bed.

He's got his chest pressed against a muscled back, his arms wrapped around a well defined torso. His nose is filled with the scent of that person, making him almost dizzy, intoxicating his senses.

And Dean smiles.

Because he knows exactly who's in his embrace right now and he finds himself utterly pleased with the whole situation.

_This_ is his favorite dream, after all.

It's been a recurring event every other night for weeks now, basically since he visited Cas in Lawrence. Usually Dean's dreams are a jumbled mess, not much to go on and remember after waking up, but _this one_ – just lying in bed with Cas and enjoying a lazy morning – turned out to be rather prominent in his mind, even accompanying him over his day. Sometimes he even caught himself getting giddy like a child at the mere thought of going back to sleep that evening, eager to get lost in the dream once more.

So yeah, he's more than happy to be here again.

Dean makes a contented noise before nuzzling Cas' neck and dropping a few light kisses on the patch of skin. As expected the body in his arms tenses up at that, obviously stirring awake. Like he always does when Dean showers him with attention.

“Morning, sunshine,” Dean mumbles with a dazed smile. “Sleep well?”

He anticipates Cas to respond with a witty remark, roll over and kiss the living daylight out of Dean in a matter of seconds. It's at least what always happens in this stage of his dream. This time, however, for some reason Cas remains a bit shyer, just staying frozen in his position and apparently not that keen to rock Dean's world right on the spot.

Okay then.

Perhaps he needs a little more persuasion this time around.

Dean smirks. He surely likes a challenge.

So he presses his groin, which is already expressing a rather pronounced morning wood, right against Cas' ass and mutters, “You up for another round or you wanna just laze around in bed a while longer?”

Cas clenches up even more, still making no indication to jump Dean enthusiastically and have his wicked way with him.

“Dean …” he says instead, his voice sounding a bit off. “I don't – um, another round of what exactly?”

Dean rolls his eyes in fond exasperation. Could he have been any more obvious than that?

“ _Knitting_ , babe,” Dean mocks him. “What do you think?”

He chuckles, way too amused by the way his subconsciousness apparently created a very realistic Cas, before he resumes kissing him right underneath the ear. The man in his arms makes a squawking noise at that, almost as if surprised, and starts to squirm.

“ _Dean_ …” he presses through his teeth with an edge in his tone.

Dean can't help feeling somewhat confused by this unexpected turn of events. “What is it, honey? You okay?”

Cas begins to wiggle in Dean's embrace, seemingly keen on getting out of it. “I think you're dreaming, Dean.”

Dean laughs at that.

_Duh_.

“Yeah, _of course_ I'm dreaming,” he agrees easily. “What else is new?”

“Well, maybe the fact that your dream is bleeding into reality,” Cas explains.

And Dean frowns because he has no idea what that means.

“Huh?”

Cas huffs, for a moment keeping silent, maybe just contemplating what to do next. And then he apparently decides that words wouldn't work and instead reaches backwards to pinch into Dean's thigh.

And it hurts.

Granted, it isn't much than a small prick, nothing to lose your head over, but Dean _feels_ it, in a way no dream could ever keep up the illusion, and he snaps his eyes open instantly as his rather tired brain realizes what this means.

It –

He –

And Cas –

_Oh shit_!

Dean's brain functions are still dangerously low, but he's got enough self-awareness on his hands to see his body jerk away from Cas' like he's been burned. He leaps backwards, sheets tangling with his limbs as he tries to put as much distance between them as possible.

In the end he topples over the edge of the mattress and crashes hard on the floor because he's pathetic like that.

Thankfully he'd gotten himself a nice, fluffy rug next to this bed only a couple of weeks ago that is now conveniently cushioning his fall. Because otherwise he actually might have ended up with the most embarrassing concussion in the history of mankind.

Dean groans and curses and overall just has no freaking idea what is even happening. He remembers vividly going to bed alone the night before, lying awake for a long time with the naked disaster in the bathroom prominent on his mind. At one point he was even convinced he wouldn't find any rest at all, perhaps even never again.

But it seems that sooner or later exhaustion did get the upper hand after all.

So yes, he fell asleep, all alone.

And now?

Now he's cuddling with Cas in his own bed and he can't recall how this came to be. Sure, he's got some vague memories of waking up once for like half a second in the middle of the night, but the whole thing is hidden in a very foggy haze. And he's pretty sure nothing out of the ordinary happened in that brief time span.

Or did it?

Before he's got any chance to investigate the matter any further, though, Cas' head appears in his line of sight, looking down on him over the edge of the bed.

Dean finds himself blushing right away and hastily grabs for the crumbled sheets that went with him to the ground, eager to cover up his lap as quickly as possible before Cas might get a front row seat to the bulge in Dean's boxers.

After all, he already might have _felt_ it, he doesn't need to see it as well.

“Are you alright?” Cas wonders. There is some hint of concern in his voice, but mostly he just appears amused, the picture of Dean sprawled on the floor obviously quite entertaining.

At least he doesn't seem upset or even embarrassed. That's something.

“Um – I –” Dean stammers, his brain having difficulty to process the situation properly. He's still half in that dream that actually wasn't a dream, with Cas in his arms, all warm and perfect. Waking up like that had surely been a joy.

At least for a brief moment. Until reality caught up with him.

_Great_.

“What – what are you even doing in my bed?” Dean can't keep his voice from squeaking in the most ridiculous manner. “I mean – I –”

Cas shoots him a crooked grin. “You don't remember, do you?”

Dean frowns. “What do I not remember?”

“I came into your room last night because I heard some very troubling noises right by my window,” Cas explains patiently. “But you assured me that it's just your pet raccoon. And then you dragged me into your bed and trapped me into the tightest embrace to 'protect me'.”

He uses air-quotes, as usual, and looks damned pleased with himself.

While Dean seriously considers hiding underneath his sheets.

_Shit_.

He doesn't have any real recollection of this, but it surely sounds like something he would do. Impulsive and stupid – that's totally his area.

And _of course_ he topped the whole thing by basically molesting and dry humping the poor guy first thing in the morning. _Jeez_ , they didn't even have their coffee yet, making it nearly impossible to develop some kind of mental strength to deal with such a situation. For both of them.

“It's fine, Dean,” Cas assures him, obviously having no trouble at all to interpret Dean's horrified expressions. “It was actually sort of sweet, to be honest. You were so determined to protect me from that vicious raccoon you wouldn't let me go.”

Dean lowers his gaze and tries to convince himself it's really not that bad.

Sure, he shared a bed with Cas and the poor guy wasn't exactly willing …

But on the other hand he's pretty sure Cas would've been able to wake him up somehow if he honestly would've wanted to get out of Dean's tight grip.

So does that mean …?

“I liked it,” Cas announces, as bluntly as ever. With a big smile on his face. “We should cuddle more often. I slept like a baby.”

Dean presses his lips into a thin line and merely hopes that the bastard won't comment on any morning wood. Because yeah, snuggling in bed is at least tolerable, but he would just love to ignore that little detail altogether, thank you very much.

And he's absolutely certain that Cas must have felt it. There is no way he didn't notice, with them aligning their bodies so freakishly close.

But thankfully Cas somehow catches his prayer and apart from a single glance at Dean's groin area he doesn't say a single thing. Perhaps he isn't that awake yet himself to have such a conversation, perhaps he is really considerate of Dean's feelings and understands the social cues revolving the circumstances.

Either way, Dean is grateful and finds himself relaxing a little.

“How about I'll allow you to make me some breakfast?” Cas suggests with a smirk. “And afterwards you can show me around.”

Dean only nods dumbly, not trusting his voice, and wonders how it was possible for this whole mess to get even worse after last night with Cas walking on him _frigging naked_.

Like seriously, why is his life like that?

  
  


\---

  
  


Castiel can't stop looking at Dean.

Naturally he allows him his privacy to change his clothes and start his day in his own personal manner, but as soon as they find themselves in the beautiful kitchen Castiel is still in awe over, now looking even more breathtaking with the sunlight falling through the windows, he's barely able to take his eyes off the other man.

At first Dean remains a little awkward around him, clearly still ruffled by finding Castiel in his bed unexpectedly, but after a cup of coffee and focusing his attention on making some breakfast he seems to calm more and more.

By the time they're at the table and devour their scrambled eggs and bacon he even smiles again and cracks stupid jokes which go over Castiel's head 60% of the time.

And Castiel keeps on looking.

The revelation of last night still heavy in his mind he certainly hadn't had expected to spend the night in Dean's bed of all things. Yes, he anticipated to stay awake for most of the time, pondering and over-analyzing every single interaction he ever had with Dean, but _nothing_ could have prepared him for the immense onslaught of feelings as he found himself in the man's arms.

The night before he barely had any opportunity to think about it too intensely, his exhaustion taking up the majority of his energy and eventually pulling him into a deep slumber. But when he woke up this morning, Dean still wrapped around him and very much asleep, Castiel finally had some time to assess the situation.

Dean's strong arms holding him tightly, his leg thrown over Castiel in an almost protective manner, his breath brushing over the back of Castiel's neck …

Yes, it was _a lot_.

And Castiel knows, without a single doubt, that no other person on the planet would've been able to ignite such powerful emotions inside of him. At least he tries to imagine waking up in the same position with someone else, _anyone else_ , and there is just no comparison. Not even by a long shot.

Castiel blinks and wonders why he never noticed this before.

Because if he allows himself a minute and considers his teenage years he can't help realizing that this might not be just a recent thing. No, even his younger self felt something for Dean he never felt for anybody else before. He figured it platonic in its nature, just with a stronger note, a closer attachment, but overall just harmless enough. Now he remembers once again Meg asking him if he ever had a crush on Dean in return and while back then, when she brought up that question, he's been more or less confident that hadn't been the case, at least not the way she was insinuating, he isn't exactly sure anymore.

So yes, maybe he did have some sort of crush on Dean as well when they used to be neighbors. At least, just as Dean, he was never able to forget their time together.

And then, twenty years later, Castiel found himself in Dean's bed and instead of wiggling out of that firm grip he simply stayed and reveled in the sensation of having his friend so close to him.

So when Dean eventually stirred awake, mumbled sleepy endearments and actually started to _kiss_ his neck Castiel at first had no idea what to do with himself. He's been kissed before, but never before had a soft brush of lips sent him into such a frenzy. For a moment he was incapable of breathing, both due to the surprise as well as his whole body going into shock, and right now he actually can't even recall how he managed to shake himself out of it.

Especially when he eventually noticed Dean's erection poking at him.

Of course Castiel tried to tell himself that this is a natural thing and happens to men in all kinds of situations without them having any control over it, but a small part of himself started to wonder – and also hope – that it maybe, at least subconsciously, came to life because of Castiel's presence. It surely sent a wave of heat through Castiel's entire system and for a brief second there he seriously considered just turning around in Dean's arms and kissing him. Simply see for himself where it might lead.

It took some effort to convince himself in the end that it would have been incredibly rude to just assume things. Dean had obviously been trapped in a dream and Castiel doesn't even know whether it's actually been starring him or perhaps just someone else. Sure, the possibility of Dean actually dreaming about him in such a capacity is absolutely exhilarating, but it's definitely not a given at this point, no matter all the people in his life telling him otherwise.

So Castiel settles on eating his breakfast for now and listens to Dean's rambles while suppressing any urge to ask specifics about that dream. Even though he's dying to know it would probably only throw Dean off again and make him avoid his gaze for the rest of the day.

And this is not something Castiel desires.

Of course he wants to tackle this issue, but he's never been one who's considered spontaneous and he certainly won't start now of all things. This whole thing needs to be laid out and observed from all sides before making any daring steps.

And he's pretty sure he needs some help from the outside for this.

“Next time I'm gonna make some of my world famous pancakes,” Dean jolts Castiel out of thoughts as he announces his plans brightly just when they finished their first serving and find themselves full and sated. “But since I've been in New York for almost a week now I don't have any easily perishable goods in the house. I need to do some online shopping later.”

Castiel tilts his head, forcing his mind to get back on track again. “Online shopping?”

“Yeah, I usually get my stuff online and let the guys just park it on the porch,” Dean explains. “Safer that way.”

Of course it does make sense.

Even though it still appears weird for Castiel to have to be cautious about something as mundane as grocery shopping.

“How long would it take for your order to arrive?” he wonders.

Dean shrugs. “A day or two, usually. We're not really the center of the world, obviously, but we're close enough to Albany that I don't have to wait too long.”

Castiel leans a bit closer. “What about Clarksville? Do they have a supermarket there or something?”

Dean narrows his eyes, apparently getting suspicious about Castiel and his unusual interest in such matters. “Yeah, they've got a little store. Even a small farmer's market twice a week. Today is one of those days, to think about it.”

Castiel smiles at that chance presenting himself.

Naturally he wants Dean around him at all times, but to sort out his feelings and get a clear picture he just needs to take a step back for a moment. Draw in a deep breath and simply be alone for a little while.

And eventually maybe ask some advice from people closest to him.

But he can't do that with the chance of Dean popping up around the corner any given second. It would only hold Castiel on edge the entire time, making him startle at the barest sound. That way he would never find the answers he craves so much.

“That farmer's market actually sounds delightful,” Castiel states with a wide smile. “I could go into town and get us some supplies.”

Dean frowns. “Dude –”

“I could make my vegetable lasagna today,” Castiel suggests, not at all inclined to listen to any objections. “I know vegetables are not your thing, but I can promise you you will like this one.”

Dean keeps on staring at him, obviously finding himself conflicted. “Man, you don't have to go _shopping_ –”

“Why not?” Castiel wonders. “It's the first thing we did last time when you arrived at my place.”

Dean huffs. “Yeah, well –” He starts to squirm on his seat. “It's not like you _sent_ me to do your shopping, I offered to go with you and keep you company –”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “And you're not _sending_ me right now either,” he points out. “I just figured it would be easier that way. And quicker.”

“It's not like we don't have any food in the house, we're gonna survive just fine until that online order arrives –”

“Why are you being so difficult about this? I'm sure you tend to send Sam into town to do some grocery shopping for you as well, am I right? At least I vaguely remember you telling me something like that –”

“Yeah, okay, we do that,” Dean agrees. “The people in town actually think Sam is the one owning this house. A busy lawyer from the city buying himself a nice weekend home in the middle of nowhere and all that stuff.” He shrugs casually at that. “Keeps the townspeople from getting too nosy.”

“So what is the big deal then?”

“You're my _guest_ , Cas –”

“I surely hope I'm a bit more than just your guest at this point?”

“Well, yes, of course –”

“Then just stop being an assbutt about this and just let me go grocery shopping!”

Dean still doesn't seem all too happy about this, but he doesn't appear to have a good counterargument ready either.

“Okay, fine, _jeez_ ,” he eventually agrees. “But I'm gonna pay for everything, you hear me?”

“Yes, alright.”

“And as soon as you're back I will spoil you for the rest of your stay.”

“It's a big sacrifice, but I'm willing to make it.”

“You're a smartass, dude.”

“I know. It's part of my charm.”

“And whatever you think, I won't eat a vegetable lasagna of all things. It sounds _wrong_ , buddy. _So wrong_.”

“You will eat it. And you will like it.”

As they continue to argue and banter Castiel finds himself relaxing. And when he eventually climbs into Dean's Ford and heads out for Clarksville all on his own, with a ridiculously amount of cash in his wallet (because Dean seemed determined to give him any opportunity to buy as much and whatever the hell he wants, even the whole damned town if he would have desired to), Castiel releases a sigh.

A sigh of relief. But also one of anticipation.

Because he's pretty sure he's about to make a big step in his life and he feels both terrified and excited about the prospect.

And he can't wait to hear what Claire and Jack have to say to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cas being the kind of dad who makes no big decisions before talking about it with his kids first ;)
> 
> So yeah, Claire and Jack will be back for the next chapter (I hope you missed them as much as I did) and a little birdie told me the whole thing might be in their POV again ;p
> 
> Until next time then, with the kids and their mom in Canada!


	33. Do Moose Dream?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys!
> 
> This time I've got good news and bad news for you.
> 
> The good ones first: As you maybe have already noticed, we've got an extra long chapter this time around :D I hope you don't mind!
> 
> The bad news, though: As I already mentioned in the very first chapter that it eventually might happen we unfortunately have to change to a biweekly updating schedule, at least for the time being. Which means the next chapter will be up in two weeks, on November 3rd.
> 
> Due to my sickness I'm unfortunately far behind with my writing and this will give me some time to catch up again and hopefully change to a weekly schedule sometime soon again. 
> 
> I can't make any promises, though, because that stupid virus infection affected, among other things, my left eye, making me see only blurs with that one – which, as you can imagine, just sucks majorly and surely isn't helping my writing in the least >.< I definitely can't recommend being dizzy and nauseous most of the time by any means. And since my doctors are still in the early stages of getting to the bottom of this (thanks to some pre-existing conditions not the easiest thing to determine) I can't predict for sure how long this will last and how well I'll get along with this fic.
> 
> For now I definitely have set my sights on Nov. 3rd for the next update (lol, you see what I did there? 😆), but to stay up-to-date for any possible changes you can also look [HERE](http://peanutbutterjelly-pie.tumblr.com/tagged/starstruck)!   
> I hope and will give it my best shot that we're gonna be able to return to our weekly schedule soon :)
> 
> For now, without further ado, have fun with Jack and Claire :D
> 
> -

“Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Do moose dream?”

Jack watches his mother slowly lifting her gaze from the morning newspaper and sending her son a wary look. She stopped being surprised by his highly random questions a long time ago, but she still remains cautious, knowing only too well that such a thing might lead to a fairly adventurous conversation quickly going out of control.

Jack merely smiles innocently at her over the breakfast table.

“Why do you ask?” Mom wonders, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Jack shrugs. “It just crossed my mind.”

And that's the truth. He's seen one of these creatures in the woods from afar the other day and at first he just found himself puzzled by how these animals are able to sleep comfortably with such enormous antlers on their heads. And that thought automatically made him wonder about a lot of other things on top of that, including dreaming.

“Well, honey, I don't really know,” Mom admits. “Moose are not exactly my area of expertise.”

“Why not? You live in Canada.”

Mom sends him an amused smile. “So?” he asks. “Not every Canadian is a moose expert by default. Of course we all learn at some point how to behave if we would ever stumble upon one, because at the end of the day it's better to be safe than sorry, but most of us don't go as deep as you, sweetheart. At least it's not necessary for our survival to know whether moose dream or not.”

Jack is just about to argue that point when suddenly Claire enters the scene.

She looks rumbled and sleepy, clearly only mere minutes after rolling out of bed, and plops on the chair right next to Mom without any grace. She just grumbles underneath her breath before downing an entire glass of orange juice with a pinched expression.

“Good morning, sun of all our lives,” Mom greets her with a low chuckle. “I assume you slept well?”

Claire throws her a dark look. And after a long moment of consideration decides to ignore the comment altogether.

“What are we talking about?” she asks instead, her eyes still bleary as she rubs them rapidly to chase off the last remnants of sleep.

“We were wondering if moose dream,” Mom brings her up to speed.

Claire only scoffs. “Of course they do. Everyone dreams.”

And that's it then.

Jack highly doubts she has any scientific basis for this, she probably hadn't even thought about moose' sleeping habits before in her entire life. But as always she sounds so confident and sure of herself that Jack can't do anything else but believe her.

For a while the table falls quiet again. Claire eager to get some food inside herself to fully wake up, Mom busy to perfect her tea (which, for some reason, always fails because she is somehow unable to keep a tea bag in for a specific amount of time) and Jack merely gazing into the woods.

Wondering whether he should go on a hike today and hopefully meet a moose. Of course it won't be able to tell him if it's capable of dreaming or not, but it would be nice to see one nonetheless.

“Any news from your father?” their mother eventually breaks the silence.

Jack turns his eyes back towards his family and can't help a smile. Dad had been sending a bunch of pictures from New York yesterday, obviously keen on sharing the experience with his children. It's been crowded and exciting and so very different from where they are right now.

The last photos arrived late at night. A museum named The Cloisters Dad apparently was able to visit at such a late hour of the day. And though he didn't outright say it, Jack is pretty sure Dean somehow arranged that extraordinary tour. After all, you're usually not allowed inside a museum close to midnight. At least not if you're not an exhibit.

And he's only confirmed in his assumption when Claire announces, “Yeah, seems like Dean used his contacts to rent The Cloisters last night and take Dad on a special date.”

She smirks, obviously amused by her observation.

Meanwhile, Jack frowns. “It was a date?” he wonders. “Dad didn't say anything about it being a date.”

Claire looks at him like she thinks him an adorable idiot. A look, by the way, Jack receives a lot.

“It was a date,” she states with as much conviction as a human being is able to muster. “Dad might've not realized it and perhaps even Dean was clueless about it, but it's been a date.”

Jack blinks. “How can it be a date when both are unaware of it?”

Claire just waves him off. “You'll understand when you're older.”

Jack pulls a face, as always not enjoying to hear the phrase grown-ups use way too often. He glimpses at Mom, hoping for some clarification, but she only seems contemplative as she looks at Claire. Whatever is going through her mind right now is prominent enough to demand all her attention.

“Either way, I think they had fun,” Jack summarizes. Because at the end of the day that is what's important. “They should do it more often.”

Claire chuckles. “Visiting museums or dating in general?”

“Both.”

Claire shoots him a toothy grin, telling him “ _good one, little nerd”_ just with the glow on her face and the way her eyebrows arch in a certain manner.

Jack grins smugly to himself and decides that this is a nice morning.

And he finds himself determined to make it a good day as well.

“Mom, can we go on a hike today?” he wonders, jerking his mother out of whatever thoughts had been occupying her mind in that moment.

For a second she simply stares at him, needing a second to adjust, and just when Jack begins considering repeating the question her features change into something deadpan. “You're hoping to meet a moose, don't you?”

Jack puts on his most angelic face. “I don't know what you mean.”

“Jack –”

“I'm not saying we should actively look for one. But coincidences happen all the time …”

Mom groans and rolls her eyes, looking so much like Claire in that moment it's almost uncanny. “You're a lot of work, you know that?”

Jack grins brightly. “So is that a yes?”

“I'm okay with hiking,” she agrees on. “But we steer clear of any moose.”

“But, Mom –”

“It's not like they can tell you about their dreams anyway,” she points out, lifting her brow in a stern gesture. It's definitely not as impressive as Dad's _“don't disagree with me, son!”_ stare, but it's enough to make Jack deflate in defeat nonetheless.

“Fine, just the hiking,” he concedes. “And maybe at least some other animals along the way.”

Mom waves him off. “You can watch at all the birds and butterflies you want.”

They're no moose, but Jack can live with that.

“You wanna come with us?” he asks his sister.

Claire, still looking more asleep than awake, shakes her head instantly. “Nope, thank you. I decided to have my lazy day today.”

Jack frowns. “You already had a lazy day yesterday.”

“That was just practice for the main event today.”

“And tomorrow?”

“Then I'll have to recover from all the laziness.”

“That doesn't even make sense.”

“Your face doesn't make any sense.”

“You're very weird sometimes –”

“ _Kids_!” Mom suddenly interjects, clapping her hands to get their attention. “Don't give Mommy a headache before the day has even started, would you?”

“Sorry,” they mumble in unison.

Mom glances back and forth between them for a moment, something affectionate flickering over her features. And when Jack and Claire continue to bicker just only a few seconds later, unable to help themselves, she looks like she won the lottery. Like, despite her words, she can't imagine anything greater than watching her children squabbling with one another.

And Jack finds himself realizing that they all might be a little weird in this family.

  
  


\---

  
  


Claire loves her mom and Jack, but having the place all to herself definitely has its perks.

Both of them set out shortly after breakfast and even though Claire knows they won't be out all day long (Mom is, just like Dad, not spontaneous enough to decide such a thing last-minute), she surely intends to make every second of her personal alone time count.

So at first she does what every sensible teenager does: crank up her music to the highest setting and dance around in the whole house in her sleeping clothes.

She allows herself to laugh and giggle like a little girl as she jumps up and down on the couch and do some cartwheels on the fluffy carpet in front of the fireplace. And when her favorite song starts to play she sings along so loudly and so freaking terribly she feels way too good about herself.

So in the end it takes her a little while to notice she's gotten a text in the meantime. But when she spots the small light on her phone blinking she picks it up from the kitchen table, keen on seeing if perhaps Kaia sent her a message.

It is, as it turns out, not her girlfriend, though.

No, it's a message from her father.

**Dad [10:47 AM]:** _I know you've been joking about it for quite some time, but do you REALLY think Dean has feelings for me?_

For a moment Claire finds herself speechless and only stares at the phone's screen.

Speechless because a) it's an utterly ridiculous question, and b) it's nonetheless close to a miracle that Dad actually considers seriously talking about the issue.

And so quickly she sends the only reply that is appropriate in this situation.

**Claire [11:08 AM]:** _YES! YES YES YES!!!!_

She snorts. Hopefully that will bring her point across.

Unfortunately Dad doesn't seem that convinced.

**Dad [11:10 AM]:** _How are you so sure?_

Claire sighs and quickly dials his number since she sure as hell won't have this groundbreaking conversation via text message.

So when he picks up she doesn't even give him a chance to get any word in as she instantly blurts out, “Because I _know_! Even a blind person could see it!”

Claire realizes she is a bit harsh. Such things might be easy to depict from the outside, but much harder to detect when you're actually living it. After all, it took her an embarrassingly long time herself to notice Kaia was flirting with her. In the end it actually needed an honest-to-God _kiss_ to wake Claire from her stupor.

So Dad seriously should be forgiven for staying so oblivious. Claire is honestly able to relate and many other people on the planet would be right with him, even though they might be too ashamed to admit that.

However, it doesn't change the fact that it's super frustrating to watch those two idiots dance around each other like that for way too long.

“So you're sure about this?” Dad still sounds hesitant. Like he's cautious not to get his hopes up.

And isn't that something?

“Okay, Dad, first of all, _YES_ ,” she emphasizes yet again. “The few days he stayed with us – I mean, you were practically acting like a domestic married couple. If you would've told me the next day Dean were about to move in and stay with us forever, I wouldn't have been surprised at all.”

Okay, granted, maybe a little bit, but for the dramatic effect she refrains from pointing that out. Dad obviously needs a good kick in the butt and no further doubts.

“I see,” Dad mumbles, probably deeply in thought already.

“What even brought this on?” Claire wonders, curiosity getting the better of her. “Did you suddenly realize you want to scribble 'Mr. Castiel Winchester' all over your notebooks until the end of time itself?”

The mental image is so hilarious Claire starts to snicker.

Dad, meanwhile, only huffs, apparently not as amused about this. “No, I did not feel any such urge, thank you very much.”

“Then what was it?”

Dad falls silent on the other end of the line at first, most likely contemplating how much she should share with his teenage daughter. And in the end he goes for, “Well, things … happened.”

Claire frowns. That's, without any doubt, not good enough.

“ _What_ things?”

“Claire –”

“C'mon, Dad, tell me! I deserve to know, after everything you put me through by not telling me about Dean sooner.”

Dad takes a deep breath. “I'm not sure it's appropriate –”

“ _Oh my God_ , did you sleep with him?” Claire's eyes widen in shock at the mere possibility.

Dad, though, only splutters in response. “ _What_? No, I didn't – why do you – we didn't –”

He continues to stammer, clearly flustered beyond belief, and Claire can't help a snicker at his awkwardness. He's always been open about sexuality in general and sharing anything with his children if they have a question, but somehow the picture of _him_ being involved in such a thing tends to throw him off. Like the concept of all of this is totally okay with him as long as everyone keeps it far away from his very person.

“Okay, fine, you did _not_ sleep with him,” Claire cuts off Dad's rambling with a loud laugh. “Got it.”

Dad sighs heavily, obviously relieved by this. “Okay …”

Claire smirks. “But do you _want_ to sleep with him?”

Dad's following eye roll is actually audible. “ _Claire_ –”

“Hey, I'm just wondering.” She shrugs her shoulders. “What do you expect? You tell me that _things_ happened and you're getting all weird about it –”

“And that means I slept with Dean?”

“It means _something_ happened.”

Dad growls underneath his breath. “Nothing of _that_ magnitude!” he insists. “I just accidentally walked in on him, sparsely clothed, and later on we spent the night together in his bed, also more of less by accident. That is _it_.”

Claire creases her forehead. “How do you _accidentally_ spend the night in someone else' bed?”

“This is not of import,” Dad evades right away, probably blushing a hilarious shade of red now. “I just – like I said, _things_ happened. Things that made me view certain … um, _feelings_ in a different light than before.”

Claire nods in understanding. “So you finally realized you're crazy about him?”

Dad makes some indignant noises first, seemingly eager to find some other words to describe his situation in a vastly different manner. But then, all of a sudden, he simply inhales and confesses, quite resigned, “Yes, if you want to phrase it like that.”

Claire raises her brows. _Wow_.

She really hoped Dad and Dean would use their alone time properly and figure some stuff out, but she still kept her expectations on a realistic level because at the end of the day they're both morons. So hearing this now, after they've been by themselves for less than a day, is truly astonishing.

“And now you're calling me to ask me if I think he likes you back?” Claire summarizes, amusement creeping up on her again. She feels like she's back in school once more. Only this time she isn't talking with one of her fellow students but the principal.

What a strange life she is living.

“I just …” Dad trails off, apparently not sure what to reply.

“Don't worry, Dad, he likes you back,” Claire assures him. “And I'm not saying that because of that whole _Mystery Crush_ deal. No, I'm saying that because I have eyes.”

Dad takes a very deep breath.

“Okay, let's assume for a moment he really does feel that way about me,” he says (because he's an idiot). “I'm … I'm not exactly sure what to do with that, to be honest.”

Claire huffs.

Adults. They're so unnecessarily complicated sometimes.

“Just, I dunno, _court_ him,” Claire proposes. “At least Jack would suggest that.”

Dad scoffs. “I'm not so sure a thirteen-year-old is the best to give any advice in such matters, don't you think?”

“But he does have a point, doesn't he?”

Dad falls quiet again after that and Claire forces herself to stay calm as well and let him come out of his shell all on his own. After all, this is something he has to figure out for himself and even though a few gentle nudges are surely beneficial he needs to do the last couple of steps all by himself like a big boy.

“He is my friend,” Dad eventually says, his voice uncharacteristically low. “I don't want to ruin what we have. Because I _love_ what we have.”

Claire gets that. She seriously does.

“It's a big step, yes,” she admits. “But being in a relationship doesn't mean you can't be friends anymore. Quite the opposite, in fact. I mean, Kaia is my best friend, no matter what.”

Dad makes a humming noise, obviously intently considering that.

“Besides, the thing Dean and you have – like I said, you're practically already _are_ in a relationship,” Claire states. “You're already domestic and married and I highly doubt much would change if you'd eventually cross that line.” She pauses for a moment and then adds, with a grimace, “Yes, I mean, _some_ things would change I don't wanna think about too closely 'cause you'd have to put me into therapy afterwards …”

Dad scoffs. “Yeah, let's not talk about _that_ –”

He sounds embarrassed. But also a little bit intrigued.

And that's certainly a progress Claire didn't expect anytime soon.

Even though she _seriously_ doesn't want to think about the details _at all_.

“I'm just saying, yes, you could ignore the whole thing and hope that it'll vanish at some point,” she admits. “Just go on as you have been. Remain friends and nothing else.” She takes a heavy breath. “But I'm gonna guarantee you, it will nag at the back of your head constantly. Days, months, even years. And one day you might find yourself regretting it greatly not having done anything about it. But then it's gonna be too late because Dean already found another nice guy or woman and is about to marry them. He'll start a family of his own and you'll sit on the sideline and keep wondering _what if_.”

Dad is silent on the other end of the line, apparently thinking this over very thoroughly.

“Remember how you told us you share this profound bond with Dean?” Claire wonders. “It would be hard to destroy, even if things don't pan out as you expect.”

Dad inhales slowly. “So you are saying it is worth the risk?”

“I dunno. Is Dean worth it?”

“ _Of course_ he is,” Dad insists, almost sounding offended by the mere notion.

“Then you've got your answer right there,” Claire summarizes with a broad grin.

“Huh,” Dad says, obviously so shell-shocked by the sheer simplicity of the entire situation he finds himself speechless.

“And if you're wondering what to do next, just follow Jack's advice.”

Dad stays quiet for a long moment.

And eventually he guesses, “Court Dean?”

Claire laughs. “Yep. Court Dean.”

  
  


\---

  
  


It's later that day, just when Claire finally deigns to put on some proper clothes, that Jack and their mother are returning from their little expedition.

Jack is glowing, probably still flashed from the countless different impressions outside in the woods (because that little nerd is able to get excited about the tiniest bug), and instantly starts to relay to Claire every single detail of their adventures before he's even finished taking off his hiking boots. Claire feels a strong urge to roll her eyes and brush him off like any teenager in her position would have done, but there is something adorably puppy like about Jack whenever he gets that way and she rarely has the heart to stop his rambles.

Mom certainly seems to feel the same way. She appears exhausted, most likely due to all the physical exercise as well as Jack's enthusiasm, as she walks in right after her son, but there is also a soft amusement in her eyes while she listens to Jack's happy chatter.

It stays that way more or less for the rest of the day, just Jack rambling about basically anything he can think of with Claire and their mother indulging him. So in the end it's no wonder that the poor baby is getting tired rather quickly and eventually excuses himself to go to bed and charge his batteries again, for a new day to come.

As soon as he's gone it gets eerily quiet, but neither Claire nor Mom are awfully eager to fill the silence again. It feels peaceful, in a totally different way.

So they end up in the specious living area, with Claire sitting on the couch and texting Kaia and Mom on the armchair right next to her going through all the emails she neglected to check for the week. For a while Claire is reminded of her times with Dad, when they just hang out close and do their own thing, no words being spoken. Just existing right beside each other.

Claire smiles to herself, sends Kaia a virtual kiss and misses her like crazy.

“Did you talk with your father again?” Mom eventually breaks the silence after about half an hour, her gaze still locked on the screen in front of her as she tries to appear as casual as possible. But Claire clearly notices the sudden tension in her shoulder.

Like all the other times recently whenever Dad is mentioned.

“You okay, Mom?” Claire can't help wondering. “You always get that weird look on your face when we're talking about Dad nowadays.”

Mom seems fairly adamant not to look up from her laptop. “It's fine.”

Claire frowns. Part of herself just wants to drop it since Mom appears rather uncomfortable with the topic, but she can't help remembering that Dad in return also been acting kinda weird lately around his former wife. They're still civil with each other, at least the few times Claire witnessed them interacting with one another, but something clearly shifted between them.

“Did you guys have a fight?” Claire asks. She didn't notice anything of that sort, but her parents always made sure to not have any arguments in front of their children before and that didn't change with their divorce.

Mom doesn't reply at first, her gaze simply fixed on her computer screen. Her expression doesn't give away much, making Claire wonder whether she just imagined things.

And she is just on the verge of apologizing for reading the situation wrong when Mom suddenly sighs. Very deeply.

“I was an idiot.”

Claire blinks. “Oh?”

“And a jerk. A selfish, thoughtless jerk.”

Claire raises her brows. Mom is usually not that forward.

“Tell me how you really feel,” Claire jokes, hoping to lighten a mood a little.

Mom shoots her a quick smile. “Just heed my advice, honey,” she says. “Never assume things. No matter how hurt you are, no matter what other people tell you, no matter how strongly you believe you're right – _always_ take a moment to let your rational brain look at the circumstances. Shove all your emotions down for a minute or two and draw in a deep breath. That way you might keep yourself from hurting people you care about, consciously or unconsciously.”

Claire tilts her head and assesses her mother briefly. Her pinched lips, the guilt in her eyes, the anguish in her words.

“You hurt Dad?” she concludes.

Mom winces. “I didn't mean to,” she confesses. “Like I said, I was a stupid jerk who didn't think her actions would have such grand consequences.”

Claire still doesn't really know what exact incident she's actually referring to, but she's also quite aware that her Mom doesn't have a malicious bone in her body. Whatever she did, she certainly didn't do it to intentionally make Dad suffer.

Even though she might view the whole thing otherwise and will probably beat herself up over it for quite some time.

“But you and Dad, you're gonna be alright?” Claire asks, almost a bit timidly. She always appreciated her parents having a good relationship with each other and she'd hate for all of that to crumble down. All too often she's seen the divorced parents of some of her classmates being on each others' throats right there in public, for everyone to ogle, and she surely has no desire for her own situation to become that way, too.

Mom, however, offers her a soft smile. “You know your Dad. He's the greatest guy in the world and doesn't hold a grudge for long.”

That is certainly true, Claire has to admit.

“Right now he's angry about the entire situation and trust me, he has every right to be,” Mom assures. “I don't deserve forgiveness anytime soon, but I'm pretty sure he'll give it to me nonetheless sooner or later. Because he is an amazing guy like that.”

Claire squints her eyes and wonders once more what might have happened. Granted, she could just ask out loud and Mom would most likely give her a bit more details on the matter, but it would feel somewhat too close to prying and overall Claire isn't really down with peering into her parents' personal business. They have a life of their own, apart from their children, and Claire knows that she should keep her nose out of it. After all, she wouldn't be thrilled if Mom and Dad would intrude into every aspect of her and Kaia's relationship either.

It doesn't stop her from being curious, though, nevertheless.

“Well, whatever it is, I'm sure Dad will be pretty chilled after his child-free summer break,” Claire says with a wide grin. “Which is all thanks to you, of course.”

Mom chuckles at that. “You have a point.”

They share one last amused look before fixing their attention back to their respective tasks. Claire continues to banter/flirt with Kaia while Mom works through her emails efficiently.

It's a long while later, just when Claire is debating going to bed, that Mom suddenly picks up her voice again. “By the way, would you mind doing me a favor?”

Claire pauses, not sure what kind of favor might be asked of her so late at night. “What is it?”

“It's actually a favor for your father,” Mom clarifies.

Claire frowns. “Okay?”

“I'm just – before I'd forget –” Mom suddenly looks very awkward again. “It's – well, I found a letter of your father's. Took me actually quite a while and I was close to giving up and declare the entire thing a failure, but then I spotted it in some old folder in the depths of my closet – and I considered just sending it via mail, but sometimes things get lost and this one is quite important – and since it was merely less than a week before you and Jack arrived anyway when I found the letter, I figured I'd just give it to you and could deliver it to your father –”

She rambles on and on while the wrinkle on Claire's forehead only deepens. There are so many different emotions flashing over Mom's features all of a sudden and Claire has no real idea what to do with that.

“A letter?” she asks, hoping for some clarity.

“An old one,” Mom explains. “From twelve years ago.”

Claire finds herself confused why a decade-old letter could have such meaning that Mom would get all emotional about it.

“It's important,” Mom insists. “I mean, it's way too late, but it belongs to your father.”

Claire blinks a few times. “Okay … I guess?”

Mom leans forward and pats her shoulder. “Please just make sure that he gets it?”

Claire has no clue what this is about (though she can't help wondering whether it's somehow connected to their earlier discussion), but it's not like she would just dismiss it. If both Mom and Dad deem that letter valuable, so be it.

“No problem,” she promises in the end. “Just put it in my bag and I'm gonna give it to Dad first thing.”

Mom smiles.

And she looks quite relieved.

“Thank you,” she whispers. “It will mean the world to him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you had fun with Jack eager to see some moose and Claire setting her dad's head straight!
> 
> Until next time then :))


	34. Courtship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys!
> 
> At first I wanna thank you so much for all your sweetness and support. You remain to be amazing and I love you all <3 
> 
> *hugs you all very tightly*
> 
> And for some good news, I actually made quite the progress with the fic in the last two weeks (at least more than I expected). I'll keep the biweekly schedule for now, though, since my health is still up in limbo for the time being. I've already seen quite too many doctors for my liking and it'll probably be a few more. I'm already up for an MRI (hopefully sometime soon) and who knows what else <.< At least right now I'm feeling pretty exhausted fairly quickly, so weekly updates are currently not really my thing! 
> 
> But I mean, after all, it's 2020, right? What did I expect? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> For now, however, let's just enjoy the chapter, shall we? Prepare for fluff and fluff and – oh, did I mention? – FLUFF. And also a bit of a cliffhanger because that is just the way I roll ;D
> 
> I hope you have fun!
> 
> -

When Cas returns from his shopping trip there is something different about him.

Dean can't really pinpoint what it is. Cas surely doesn't say anything about it and instead acts like any other day, giving away absolutely nothing. But there is something calculating in his eyes all of a sudden. As though his brain is busy solving a complicated puzzle.

And it seems to involve Dean.

At least Cas spends a big amount of time staring at him for the rest of the morning. That in and of itself is most definitely nothing new, but his gaze appears more intense than ever, piercing right into Dean's very soul.

Dean wants to ask him what's up, on more than one occasion, though in the end he always backed out, way too anxious about the answer. After all, considering the things that happened recently – the bed sharing, the _dream_ , the _NAKEDNESS_ – Dean can make a pretty good guess what runs through Cas' mind these days. And Cas might be eager to talk this out and dissect it in great detail, but Dean would rather only eat salad for the rest of his life than ever poke that bear.

So he pretends he doesn't notice Cas' powerful stare and prays to every deity available that things die down rather sooner than later.

Thankfully soon enough Dean is able to distract the guy with a tour around the premises. At first he shows Cas every corner of the house and tells him enthusiastically about all the renovations he went through. Usually he tries to be modest about it and doesn't boast it out like a giddy preschooler, but in order to keep Cas preoccupied Dean figures it best just to keep talking and talking. So he rambles on about the tiling in the bathroom, the hardwood floors, the never-ending struggles of getting the right roof tiles, and so on and so on.

it's certainly successful, with Cas being far too in awe to ask any uncomfortable questions that might Dean make burst into flames from embarrassment.

When they're done with the house Dean leads him through the surrounding area. After all, he knows that Cas is a suicidal moron who loves to run in the mornings and Dean would rather have him getting acquainted with the territory and the different routes than see him ending up lost at some point. Sure, Dean would declare it his mission to search through the entire forest without even stopping once before finding Cas again, no doubts about that, but overall it'd be nice to prevent such a scenario in the first place. Because Dean definitely can imagine countless more enjoyable activities than roaming around in the woods in the desperate search for his friend before breakfast.

By the time they finish their rather excessive tour it's almost time for eating again and Cas once more bullies him into making a vegetable lasagna for today. Dean, way too happy that his friend has apparently all forgotten about their awkward morning (or at least decided to ignore it) and also way too gone on the guy to refuse him anything, eventually relents. Granted, not without putting his acting skills into a good show of pouting and grumbling, but in the end Cas is able to get his way without much effort and looks far too pleased about the power he has over Dean.

So they spend the rest of their late afternoon chopping vegetables, joking around and arguing about the right amount of cheese necessary for this dish. And at last, just as Cas predicted, the lasagna tastes freaking amazing and actually makes Dean moan around the first bite, the noises happening out of his control.

Cas grins smugly at that, but there is also a light flush on his cheeks, clearly brought to life by the inappropriate sounds coming out of Dean's mouth.

After that Dean might have indulged in some more of those sounds. Just for science.

The rest of the day passes rather unspectacularly, just with them settling in and enjoying their day off in peace. At some point Dean even himself forgets all about the uncomfortable situations he found himself into since they arrived here.

Cas walking in on him naked? Must've been a dream.

Cas crawling into his bed? No way that ever happened.

Dean being trapped in a dream and nearly dry-humping the poor guy? Not a chance.

Yes, Dean is more than happy to leave that all behind.

But unfortunately Cas didn't get the memo and _just_ had to poke the bear when Dean started to feel safe again.

“Do you think Reginald might be up and about at my window this night as well?” Cas asks when they're sitting on the couch in the living room late that night and watching _“Back to the Future”_ to get on Cas' pop culture education.

Dean, feeling suddenly nervous and sweaty and also not being really sure what to do with the note in the other man's voice, just shoots him a wary glance. “Uh, maybe,” he says, hoping that his voice doesn't sound as squeaky as he thinks it does. “I think – um, I think he's got a secret stash somewhere close by that room.”

Cas falls silent and starts to look rather pensive all of a sudden.

“You think it might bother you?” Dean prods. No matter how awkward he might feel about the whole mess, the last thing he wants is Cas to be uncomfortable in his house.

Cas shrugs his shoulders and obviously attempts to appear casual, even though he's really, _really_ not. “Perhaps,” he confesses. “At least I'm not used to such noises …”

He trails off and suddenly stares at Dean with such an intensity again it's almost frightening. For a long moment everything stays quiet between them, the atmosphere around them charged while Doc Brown talks a mile a minute somewhere in the background.

“Um,” Dean picks up his voice eventually. “Do you – I mean, do you wanna stay in my room again tonight? Reginald's never on that side of the house, it's safe.”

Cas perks up and something like tentative hope lights up in his eyes.

“Really?” he wonders. “You wouldn't mind?”

Dean smiles easily. “Of course not. It'd be no problem switching rooms.”

Cas' face falls immediately.

Like he's been hoping for a different kind of answer.

“Right,” he mutters in the end. “Switching …”

He falls quiet again for the rest of the movie and Dean just can't help thinking that he said something wrong. At least in the end he doesn't take Dean up on the offer, just retreats back to the guest room when they're getting ready for bed, mumbling something like, “Don't worry, I'll be alright.”

And the next morning he neither brings Reginald up nor even hints that switching rooms might be a good idea.

Dean, however, doesn't have much time to dwell on that. Because when Cas eventually sets out for his morning run – a little later than usual, but he seemed determined to be present for Dean to wake up and have a nice breakfast with – there is something odd showing up on his expression as he says his quick goodbye. It's nothing bad, Dean's pretty sure of that, but it feels weirdly intense and makes a shiver run down his spine.

And when Cas finally returns about an hour later (because he's an suicidal maniac) instead of heading straight to the bathroom and jumping under the shower he seeks out Dean in the living room, a bright smile on his face as he pants and sweats all over the place, looking unfairly gorgeous in his tight runner shorts.

Dean tries to appear unaffected by the sight in front of him and just opens his mouth to mock him about his nuttiness of indulging in such a torturous hobby when Cas all of a sudden leans impossibly close and offers Dean something that looks suspiciously like a flower.

“I just stumbled upon this on my route,” he announces happily.

Dean blinks, having no freaking clue how to react to such information. He just stares at the yellow thing in Cas' hand before glancing back at his friend's super close face and trying desperately to keep his heart from bursting out of his chest.

It takes monumental effort.

And so he almost misses it when Cas adds, “It's for you.”

For a minute it seems like time freezes.

Dean gapes and gapes and feels like an utter idiot doing _nothing_ , but as always Cas is patient and doesn't rush him. Simply smiles at him in that gentle way that always gives Dean trouble functioning properly.

At last Dean takes the flower more on instinct than anything else. It's a small, fragile thing and for a moment his breath catches as he believes he squashed it too hard.

Because he's getting ridiculous over a little flower, so it seems.

“Um …” Dean says eloquently, glancing back and forth. “Thanks?”

Cas grins broadly at him before heading for the shower and Dean simply watches him leave and asks himself how life can feel so surreal.

  
  


\---

  
  


And it remains that way.

For the next three mornings there is always a brilliantly colorful flower waiting for him.

And Dean tries to tell himself that it doesn't mean anything. That Cas is just a peculiar guy who does things out of the ordinary. Who believes hat picking up flowers on his runs and gifting them to people is just completely normal.

And yet …

Dean can't stop wondering.

  
  


\---

  
  


Since it's not only the flowers.

No, something has clearly changed. And Dean's unable to really put his finger on it.

Cas certainly doesn't act totally abnormal for his standards, that's for sure. He obviously enjoys staying in Dean's company and values his opinion about pretty much anything you can think of. May it be movie recommendations for their evenings together or just food choices for dinner.

There is definitely nothing new about this behavior.

But somehow it's _more_.

Cas seems a bit more eager to follow Dean's suggestions. A little keener to stay in Dean's orbit for most of the time. To be close to him, to touch him. Only subtle, fleeting, barely noticeable. But it certainly gets more frequent as Cas realizes that Dean doesn't mind the contact. One time he is even bold enough to run his fingers through Dean's hair (to allegedly brush a little bug off) and Dean nearly dies on the spot and remains incoherent for the rest of their afternoon that day.

Yeah, there is _definitely_ something going on.

  
  


\---

  
  


It's on the fourth day when Dean wakes up to a bunch of messages sent to him by Benny.

Dean looks at his phone with a dreadful sensation in his gut as he scrolls through the pictures and screenshots and basically just curses his life. He only wanted to spend some nice, _normal_ days with Cas deep in the wilderness, away from everything, but apparently the real world is always determined to catch up with him.

For a moment or two Dean considers not saying anything about what Benny dug up in the depths of the internet. Simply play happily oblivious and continue their days as they have done so far. At least for a little while.

It sure sounds lovely.

But it wouldn't be fair to Cas.

So in the end Dean struggles out of bed, drags himself toward the kitchen where he's already hearing Cas banging about, and instantly announces to the room, “Listen, Cas, Benny just sent me a message –”

“Dean!” Cas cuts him off, sounding so utterly delighted to see his friend awake Dean's chest tightens painfully. “You're up early.”

Dean rubs the back of his neck and tries his hardest not to blush as he notices yet another flower lying on the kitchen counter. Which is, most likely, meant for him. Again. _Dammit_.

“Um, yeah, like I said – uh –”

Dean finds himself suddenly tongue tied as he looks at Cas practically _glowing_ while he patiently waits for Dean to continue.

So he eventually just mumbles an incoherent “Um, yeah” and makes a dismissive hand gesture. It's not like he'd be able to get his brain to work properly with those big baby blues looking at him like that.

Cas immediately takes that as his cue to jump forward. “What would you say to a picnic today?”

Dean feels so floored by the abrupt change in topic he stares at his friend for way too long like a gaping fish.

“Uh – what?”

Cas, thankfully, appears to deem Dean's utter confusion rather adorable. “A picnic,” he clarifies. “I didn't have a proper one in years and the forest here is so beautiful. It would be fun, don't you think?”

Dean only blinks.

Benny's unexpected message _and_ a complete lack of caffeine makes it really hard to get a grip on things. Cas is obviously twenty steps ahead and Dean has serious trouble catching up.

“A picnic?” he ends up asking like an utter buffoon who never heard of such a thing ever before.

“I figured it might be nice,” Cas states, seemingly not thrown off by Dean's slow reacting enthusiasm. “About half an hour from here there is a nice little clearing with a beautiful pond. I've been passing that spot almost every day now on my runs and every time I thought to myself that would be a lovely place to have a picnic at.”

Dean blinks again.

He knows what clearing Cas is talking about. It's indeed a nice spot. Sam definitely thinks so every time he comes for a visit and lets his dog (and now dogs, plural) wreak havoc in that peaceful place.

“So …” Dean begins to get his vocal skills back. Very slowly. “You wanna have a picnic?”

Cas beams as though he's proud Dean's finally able to keep up. “I think it would be nice, yes. Don't you agree?”

Dean clears his throat when the power of Cas' intense gaze nearly renders him speechless once more. “Um, yeah, I mean – nice, yeah.”

_Smooth, Winchester._

_VERY smooth._

“Great,” Cas says cheerily. “I took the liberty of already preparing a few things. How about we eat a light breakfast and after an hour or two we head out?”

Dean feels all of a sudden rather overwhelmed again. “You – took the liberty – huh?”

Cas rolls his eyes in fond exasperation and gestures at the breakfast table. “How about you sit down first? You're useless without your coffee.”

Dean can't really argue with that.

So he dutifully takes a seat and lets Cas shove a mug of coffee in his hand. Meanwhile forcefully ignoring the crazy flutter in his belly telling him how awesome it would be to have this forever.

“Don't you worry, Dean,” Cas says. “It was my idea, I'm gonna take care of everything.”

It almost sounds like “I'm gonna take care of _you_ ” and Dean quickly dips his face deep into his mug to hide the flush on his cheeks.

“Um, alright, yeah,” Dean replies dumbly.

Cas grins brightly at him and then leaps to his feet again to get him some breakfast.

And just when he's juggling with the carton of orange juice Cas apparently recalls Dean's arrival earlier and throws a glance over his shoulder at the table. “By the way, what was it you wanted to say about Benny?”

Dean freezes.

And finds himself unable to answer.

Because Cas is happy. He bounces and his eyes sparkle and his smile is all kinds of infectious. Dean doesn't want to see that disappear.

Which would definitely happen as soon as Cas would read Benny's message.

And so Dean decides to postpone this for the time being. It's important, but not necessarily urgent, and they certainly deserve a nice, carefree picnic right next to the pond Sam's dogs always try to drown themselves.

“It's nothing, Cas,” Dean promises. “I'll tell you later.”

  
  


\---

  
  


When Cas said he would take care of everything, he surely meant _everything_.

He even got himself a little picnic basket and Dean can't help staring at the thing in utter disbelief as Cas pulls it out from underneath the kitchen counter as though it's always been there.

“Where the hell did you get that?”

Cas merely chuckles. “I saw it on my shopping trip in Clarksville.”

Dean narrows his eyes. “And you just bought it?”

“I figured you didn't have a lovely little picnic basket despite the fact that you live in the perfect area to have picnics every single day,” Cas answers with a shrug.

Dean grinds his teeth. “Yeah, fine. Why should I spend money on something if I could just use a bag or whatever? Transporting stuff from A to B doesn't require special equipment.”

Cas pats Dean's cheek as if he's a sweet, clueless boy. “It's all about aesthetics, Dean.”

“It's more about practicality, dude.”

“And a picnic basket _is_ practical. It has got all those little compartments –”

“Yeah, yeah …”

“It _does_ –”

“At least I've got a plaid blanket. Those are quintessential for picnics as well, right?”

Cas snorts. “Of course _you_ would have a plaid blanket. I expected nothing less.”

Dean smirks.

And so they head out for their picnic.

  
  


\---

  
  


_Everything_ obviously doesn't only cover the material but also the food as well.

They're barely just spread the blanket onto a shadowy spot with a pretty view on the pond when Cas instantly started to clear out his basket and sprawl its content all over.

And it's _a lot_.

“Dammit, Cas,” Dean growls, staring at the huge amount of food with wide eyes. “When the hell did you make all of this?”

It's sandwiches and chopped fruits and vegetables and egg salad and beef jerky and little muffins. Basically anything you need to survive in the wild.

Cas shrugs at Dean's question like the whole thing is not a big deal. “Some of it I got in town this morning. I made a little detour on my run. The rest I put together while you took your sweet time in the bathroom.”

Dean pouts automatically at the little tease, but he still feels way too thrown off by all the effort Cas went through that he's got no energy to come up with any witty reply. Instead he looks at all the food and attempts to recall when it's been the last time anyone did even something remotely similar for him.

Sure, most of the time he's got lots of people fluttering around him, eager to kiss the ground he walks on and do absolutely anything for him. For _Dean_ _The Actor_.

But just for _Dean_ , the guy who loves to work on cars, eat greasy food and gets into heated debates about _Star Wars_ with fellow nerds? Yeah, _that_ guy is usually not that popular with the masses. At least normally most people don't bend backwards to do something nice for him without any ulterior motive. Money, fame, a brief moment in the spotlight, you name it.

But Cas? He's merely here to have a lovely picnic with his friend. Nothing more, nothing less. He just wants to be in Dean's company and make him feel good and it might seem like a simple thing, like nothing out of the ordinary, but for Dean it definitely means a whole lot.

Cas going through all that trouble and preparing this nice outing only with Dean's comfort in mind – it's almost too much to even handle.

How is a grown man supposed to deal with something like that?

“Cas, I …” Dean licks his lips, not having a freaking clue how he should express his gratitude in the right manner. No words in the English vocabulary (and beyond) seem good enough to bring his point across properly.

“No need to get all emotional over me just yet, Winchester,” Cas teases him with a soft chuckle, obviously noticing Dean's struggle right away. “Just eat.”

Dean wants to ask so many questions – how Cas pulled it off in detail, whether he paid for most of the groceries (because Dean's keen on paying back every single penny if that were the case), how he even did come up with all of this in the first place –, but Cas' easy smile renders him speechless and so he eventually trains his attention toward the food to avoid making a massive fool of himself along the way.

Hastily he shoves the nearest turkey sandwich right into his mouth and doesn't give a damn about table manners, only happy to shut himself up for the time being.

Overall it's a simple dinner. Sure, it tastes great and Dean feels like he's in Heaven, but there is surely nothing fancy about it. And that's probably exactly how Cas intended it to be, knowing all too well that Dean's seriously not a fan of any upscale culinary stuff. He'd rather eat some burgers and beer than any unidentifiable blob with a complicated name nobody in their right mind would be able to pronounce.

No, some sandwiches and beef jerky and pastries are truly the kind of belly fillers that make his heart soar.

“This is really great, Cas,” Dean eventually manages to say after he swallowed the last of the egg salad and finds himself finally confident enough to speak a few words without blurting out something stupid by mistake. “Like seriously, man. I haven't done something like this in years.”

Actually, if he's being honest with himself, he isn't even totally sure he ever went to a proper picnic before. Granted, on those many road trips with his parents they had their breaks where they just plopped onto a patch of grass and threw some food together, but that honestly wasn't the same. Those were just spontaneous things to get out of the car for a while and put some nutrition into their stomachs. Not _this_.

“Well, I'm glad to see you're enjoying yourself,” Cas tells him, a wide smile on his face. “Because I have a little surprise for you.”

And before Dean even knows what is happening Cas pulls a small box out of his magic basket and puts it in front of Dean with an utterly pleased expression. Dean instantly recognizes the logo of a small bakery in Clarksville and feels his mouth water as a familiar smell reaches his nose.

“Oh fuck, you _didn't_ –” he hisses, suddenly feeling very overwhelmed.

But Cas sure did. He doesn't hesitate to open the lid and there it is, the perfect apple pie.

“I remember you telling me about the bakery,” Cas explains. “How you always send Sam into town to get you a few of their pies because they're so good. I spotted it on my first trip to Clarksville, but unfortunately they were already out of pie that day. So when I decided on this picnic I made sure to call them yesterday and order one for today.”

Dean blinks. “You _ordered_ it?”

Cas nods. “You can't have a picnic without pie, right? At least not when Dean Winchester is involved.”

Dean takes a deep breath and needs all his strength to keep himself from leaning over and kissing the living daylight out of this man.

Because _damn_.

“Cas …”

“I was thinking of baking one myself actually, but that wouldn't have been much of a surprise, right? I mean, the entire house would have smelled of pie …”

The image of Cas standing in Dean's kitchen, baking an apple pie just for Dean, is enough to make Dean whimper lowly.

“Cas …” he whispers, his voice croaking due to all those powerful emotions tightening his throat. “I don't know what to say …”

Cas grins sunnily. “I just hope you like it.”

“Like it? I _love_ it!” Dean hurries to clarify. “I mean, _damn_ … are you trying to woo me or something?”

He expects Cas to laugh. To wave it off as a joke before countering with a sarcastic remark. To play along and flirt exaggeratedly and use one of their personal pet names as a final touch.

He doesn't expect Cas to stay calm and serious. And he most certainly doesn't anticipate him to reply, “Yes, I am.”

Dean pauses.

And simply gapes at the man next to him with wide eyes.

Because _huh_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, this chapter and the next were originally just one, but it grew way out of proportion and I had to cut it in half >.<
> 
> So instead enjoy this nice cliffhanger ;)
> 
> Until in two weeks then, with Cas and Dean maybe finally figuring their shit out and Benny having some news to share!


	35. Idiots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys!
> 
> Here we are again, this time with a super extra long chapter ;D
> 
> Have fun!!
> 
> -

For a long while nobody says anything, doesn't even move a single muscle, as the atmosphere gets impossibly charged. The air around them is crackling and sizzling, on the verge of something major.

And Dean remains motionless and waits.

Waits for Cas to break into a big smirk and snicker at Dean's expression. To announce that it was just a joke and _“you should see your face right now, Dean”_.

But Cas doesn't. He doesn't rectify his comment. Doesn't elaborate.

He simply stares at Dean, deep into his soul, and stays patient. Waiting for Dean to figure his stuff out.

As if that's an easy thing to do.

Because Dean … well, he feels like his brain's just been fried.

 _Dammit_.

“I – I …” Dean squeaks.

Yes, he _squeaks_.

Because he's apparently pathetic like that.

“You're – you're kidding, right?” he eventually settles on. Accompanied by the most nervous and ridiculous chuckle humanity has ever heard.

Cas, however, doesn't seem impressed by that.

“You think I'm joking?” he inquires, a rather strange waver in his tone as he squints his eyes at Dean. “That I'm just messing around?

Dean has no real idea what to do with that. “Uuuhhh …”

“You're actually surprised by this?” Cas asks. “I brought you _flowers_ every single morning for the last few days. I figured that would be a huge hint.”

Hearing it spoken out loud like this surely makes it painfully obvious all of a sudden.

 _Damn_ , he's been blind.

“I thought – um, I thought that was just you being you,” Dean somewhat tries to explain. “You're sometimes a weird dude doing weird stuff.” When Cas' expression gets a little pinched at the phrasing Dean rushes to add, “I mean, in a good way. Its awesome that you're doing your thing, no matter what people say or what society thinks or whatever – you're just _you_ and that's great – so I thought picking up some flowers on your morning run might be a normal thing for you or something – I mean, um, yeah –”

Dean realizes he's rambling and also not in a very graceful manner, but it's not like he can help himself. Either stunned silence or idle chatter – that's what you get when you make a Dean Winchester anxious in such a way.

“I see,” Cas answers after a moment, his lips pressed into a tight line. He might be unhappy about the current situation or he just might be stifling a laugh, Dean can't honestly say. “I guess I should be more blunt in the future then?”

Which is definitely something coming from one of the bluntest guys in the history of mankind.

“Uh … I guess?” Dean whispers, pulling a face at his own awkwardness.

“Okay, fine.” Cas straightens his shirt, as though he's making himself ready for an important mission, looking all serious and proper. And then he suddenly looks Dean straight in the eyes and leans closer. “Yes, I'm trying to woo you. Court you. Wrap you around my finger. However you want to name it.”

Dean swallows audibly and has to remind himself to breathe.

“I was hoping for a romantic outcome,” Cas admits. “As I recently realized that I'm not only having strong feelings for you, but also sense an undeniable attraction.”

Oh _Jesus_.

JESUS, JESUS, _JESUS_.

Dean feels his brain going into a complete meltdown at those words and he actually has to pinch himself to make sure he isn't dreaming right now. Because this is _exactly_ what he had been hoping for while simultaneously never believing it would ever be possible.

But here he is, sitting on a plaid blanket, a delicious apple pie right in front of him and the most gorgeous and amazing man on the planet confessing his feelings.

This _can't_ be true, can it?

Because this feels way too much like a scene from one of his movies to be real.

“And I'm hoping I'm not completely out of line,” Cas continues, now looking a bit tentative at the mere possibility. “I mean, several people convinced me I am most certainly not and I myself believed to have caught up on some little signals here and there over the last couple of days as well – or perhaps even months, without even really realizing what they might have meant …” He pauses as his gaze gets even more intense. “I have no intention to make you uncomfortable, Dean. And above all I don't want to put a strain on our friendship. So if you would rather ignore what I just said, let's simply do that. We have to never speak of it again …”

Here Cas is, pouring his heart out and at the same time prepared to shove his own feelings down for all eternity. He's giving Dean a choice. A choice for him to walk away from this without changing their current situation. To resume the status quo.

But Dean knows that such things are not easy by any means. Not with things out in the open like that. Emotions such as these have a habit of sticking around, even if you're determined to avoid them.

Dean's quite aware of that. Because he himself tried to ignore his feelings for Cas and failed spectacularly.

And now Cas is offering Dean everything he ever dreamed of on a silver platter. Dean knows he should be overjoyed. He should whoop and celebrate and throw himself into Cas' arms and kiss him for at least the next few hours. Or perhaps even for the rest of their lives.

But he can't. He just can't.

He can only think about Benny calling him this morning and sending him these pictures …

“Cas, I don't – I …” He starts, his voice barely a whisper.

Cas' shoulders sag at that.

“It's alright, Dean,” Cas cuts in. He attempts to shoot his friend a smile, but it looks so forced it makes Dean's chest hurt. “I don't know what I was thinking – I apologize –”

“No, please,” Dean hurries to reassure. “It's not – you don't need to apologize –”

“I just sprung this on you, without any warning whatsoever,” Cas points out with a sigh. “That wasn't fair, I'm sorry.”

“Cas, no, it's okay –” Dean insists. “It's not – I mean – Benny called –”

Cas frowns at him in confusion. “What does Benny have to do with this?”

Dean squeezes his eyes shut.

He fantasied about this moment many times. But he couldn't imagine that it would ever go down this way.

“He told me something,” Dean admits, his heart missing a beat as he realizes this might very well be it. Just one little moment of happiness. “He showed me – well, um, it might change your mind … about the whole thing …”

Cas blinks a few times before studying Dean with the utmost disbelief. “It might change my mind? About having feelings for you?”

 _Damn_ , this hurts.

Dean just wishes he had Cas told everything this morning, then they wouldn't be in this position in the first place. Cas would've just made up his mind solely for himself without Dean being the wiser.

That would've saved them both a lot of heartache.

“It might change your mind … about pursuing something …” Dean takes a heavy breath. “With me. Pursuing something with me.”

 _Shit_ , that sounds so surreal.

They can't seriously be talking about this, right? This _must_ be some kind of mistake!

Cas, meanwhile, simply stares at him.

Completely incredulous, so it appears.

“How can you _think_ that –?” The mere idea seems incomprehensible to Cas and for a second the sheer onslaught of emotions in his voice takes Dean's breath away. Just brushing the entire thing off and instead yanking Cas closer and kissing him senseless suddenly looks like the best thing in the world.

At least for a minute or two.

Then Dean reminds himself that this wouldn't be fair to Cas.

“Benny sent me some photos this morning,” Dean explains. “And I wanted to tell you immediately, but then you were so excited about the picnic and I didn't wanna ruin your mood –”

Cas creases his forehead. “Ruin my mood?”

Instead of going into further detail Dean simply pulls his phone out and opens up the pictures Benny relayed to him. And then he pushes the device into Cas' hand, for him to see for himself.

Cas remains bewildered by the whole thing, but he turns his attention toward the phone's screen. And his eyebrows instantly lift up in surprise.

Because he's confronted with himself. The photo is grainy and doesn't show much details, but it's clearly Cas in his bodyguard attire. Slacks, aviator glasses, that damned waistcoat. Everything on full display.

“Someone took this in front of Benny's office when I was talking to my fans,” Dean says. “They obviously just had time to go through their pic collection and uploaded this on _twitter_ last night.”

Not because that person has been enjoying posting random photos of Dean's employees on the internet but mainly due to the expression on Cas' face in that specific frame. Soft, warm, captivated. Just looking at Dean in the most tender way.

Dean originally assumed the photographer managed to capture the moment Cas watched him interacting with adorable little Charlotte, deeming the entire thing so cute he just couldn't help himself but melt because of her charm and her beautifully bright sunflower dress. Dean certainly didn't think much of it at first. But now, with this new revelation, he isn't exactly sure if Cas' gaze seriously was directed at Charlotte or if his attention was only fixed on Dean himself.

Dean can't help blushing at the thought.

Either way, the person uploading this photo surely found themselves relating to Cas getting a little besotted, and added an _**#ifeelyou**_ to it.

It's not trending (yet), but Dean figures it's just a matter of time.

“So what?” Cas wonders, staring at the picture with puzzlement. “We're only able to recognize me because we _know_ it's me. But for everyone else I look just like one of the bodyguards.”

“Cas –”

“I knew I might end up on a photo or two when I decided to go out with you that day,” Cas states. “It's not a big deal. That's why we chose that disguise.”

Dean inhales deeply.

Of course Cas does have a point. And Dean could leave it with that, simply shrug it off and instead come back to their much more interesting conversation about feelings and attraction. Because Dean _badly_ wants to hear more about that.

But unfortunately that picture is not the only issue.

“Keep going,” Dean urges, nodding at his phone. “There are more photos. Benny took screenshots of some of the _twitter_ conversations.”

At first Cas makes an exasperated sound, like he figures this whole thing just a waste of time. Like Dean is overreacting over nothing. However, eventually he does as he's told, swiping further.

  
  


**DWfangirl4675:** _“dude, MOOD #ifeelyou. I'm looking at Dean like that most of the time too”_

**moon_sun_4ever:** _“never seen anything more relatable #ifeelyou”_

**jillxgond69:** _“Is that #ifeelyou guy new? At least I've never seen him before with Dean's usual bodyguards.”_

**cakepielover:** _“@jillxgond69 I dunno. but I heard people who've been there claiming Dean kept glancing at him the entire time ¯\\_(_ _ツ_ _)_/¯”_

**jillxgond69:** _@cakepielover interesting ... is there something going on maybe???”_

**cakepielover:** _@jillxgond69 we should call Kevin Costner to ask his opinion on this xDD”_

  
  


Cas looks up from the phone, his expression calm. “That is it?”

“Cas, man –”

“People believe there is something going on with _Steve_ , too, remember?” Cas reminds him with a light chuckle. “So who cares if some of them start to suspect you're having a luscious love affair with your bodyguard instead? It's both me, it doesn't make any difference.”

Dean sighs.

If it was only that.

“Keep reading,” he says, feeling his chest constricting uncomfortably.

Cas still doesn't seem to see any need for that, but he follows Dean's instructions only moments later.

  
  


**maguerite_345:** _“that #ifeelyou fella is certainly hot. Dean would definitely go for that.”_

**WinNotLoseChester:** _“@maguerite_345 and you know what? that dude looks kinda like my principal”_

  
  


Dean knows exactly when Cas reads the specific sentence because he immediately flinches and almost drops the phone, clearly thrown aback by those words. Dean surely can relate since he reacted the same way when he reached that part this morning. He even almost fell out of bed in shock.

(Which would've been the second time this week alone. Embarrassing.)

“Don't panic, buddy,” Dean hurries to soothe Cas as he notices the other man's eyes getting wider and wider. “Keep reading. Benny made more screenshots of that particular conversation.”

  
  


**maguerite_345:** _“@WinNotLoseChester you think it IS your principal maybe??”_

**WinNotLoseChester:** _“@maguerite_345 yeah not really? I mean why would he be there playing Dean's bodyguard?”_

**maguerite_345:** _“@WinNotLoseChester who knows? Second job perhaps? youve gotta make some money after all :D”_

**WinNotLoseChester:** _“@maguerite_345 well i'm sure Dean pays well ;) but nah, the last I heard my principal is in canada with his family. nowhere near nyc.”_

**WinNotLoseChester:** _“@maguerite_345 but i'm gonna show him the pic anyway after summer break and ask him if that's his twin perhaps ;D probably won't know what hit him. but it's totally worth it coz he's always so adorable when he's confused”_

**maguerite_345:** _“@WinNotLoseChester shame it's not him then, wouldve made a good story >.<”_

**maguerite_345:** _“@WinNotLoseChester but youre really lucky to have such a hot principal”_

**WinNotLoseChester:** _“@maguerite_345 oh yeah, hard agree!!!”_

  
  


“Charlie is keeping a close eye on the thing,” Dean assures quickly. “Don't worry, she's an expert on that sort of stuff. Nothing gets past her.”

After all, she was also the one who found this small exchange in the depths of _twitter_ in the first place.

“So far there is no further indication that anyone might've remotely recognized you,” Dean promises. “But just to be safe when you're back at school you shouldn't tell any of your students that you've been in New York for the summer. It might raise suspicion.”

The chances are truthfully not that high, but it can't hurt to be cautious.

Cas, meanwhile, remains silent as he rereads the conversation a second time, obviously carefully extracting every single word. And it feels like an eternity when he finally glances up again, looking directly at Dean.

“So that's it?” he wonders. “Or anything else?”

Dean honestly doesn't like his tone. He sounds way too nonchalant about this.

“Cas, man, don't you realize what that means?” Dean growls.

Cas huffs. “I do. But it won't make me change my mind. About _us_.”

Dean can't help a pleased shiver at the _us_.

But still –

“Dude, this is _my life_!” Dean states, gesturing at his phone with a heavy sigh. “People following me, people watching every step I take. I just have to spend one second to smile at a barista and suddenly that unsuspecting girl is all over the news. I only have to _glance_ at someone and everyone assumes I'm deeply in love and ready to get married with 2.5 kids, a white picket fence and a minivan. Everything around me is turned upside down constantly.”

It's something he got used to over the years.

But that doesn't mean he wants to drag other people down with him. Especially people he cares about deeply.

“We were lucky this time around,” Dean says. “But what about next week? Next month? Hell, maybe even tomorrow?” The thought is actually so painful it causes him to ache all over. “It just needs one single moment. And then someone recognizes you on a picture and then your name is spread all over the internet in record speed and before you even know it reporters are camping in front of your house and –”

“Dean, _Dean_!” Cas cuts in quickly, worry on his features now. “Please, take a deep breath.”

He reaches out for Dean, most likely to soothe him and try to ease his mind, but Dean finds himself wincing back. He doesn't need to breathe, he doesn't need to calm down. He only needs Cas to _see_. To understand.

And so he leaps to his feet before Cas' reassuring touch would dampen his resolve.

“No, no, _no_!” he insists. “Don't you get it? You have this awesome life and being with me – being with me in _that_ way –”

Dean swallows as his blood begins to pump loudly in his ears.

“Right now you're just this old childhood crush for most of the people out there,” Dean clarifies, flailing his arms around in a random direction like there's a group of people standing right behind that huge bush watching them. “Sure, we've got all the rumors and whatnot – but, I mean, so far the majority only thinks I'm still a bit smitten with you – me being nostalgic or whatever …” He rubs his temples almost forcefully. “But if they'd learn – I mean, if we'd seriously do this – this, uh, this _thing_ –”

He pauses for a split second as he's unable to fight back a blush at the mere image, rendering his brain useless in the process.

“I just – I mean –” Dean inhales deeply and forces himself to get a grip. “If we'd do this thing and the press would find out – _dude_ , you have no idea what storm we'd set loose with that –”

Cas simply looks at him, patient and calm, ready to let Dean speak his mind, while he stands up himself and steps closer to him. He's still keeping a bit of a distance, probably not very eager to frighten Dean like a skittish animal, but he makes sure that Dean is capable of seeing his expression in high definition detail.

“Dean,” he answers eventually, his voice just warm and soft and not even the slightest bit alarmed by any of this. “I do understand your reservations. And I'm fairly grateful you're taking my situation under such consideration.”

Dean only scoffs. _Of course_ he would do this. It's about the only thing he can think about right now.

“But please try to stay rational for at least a minute,” Cas pleads. “Because you _know_ me, right? You know I'm not a spontaneous guy by any means. So you're also very aware that I would never make such a life-changing decision without assessing it from every angle, aren't you?”

Dean squeezes his eyes shut and finds himself nodding in agreement. You can say a lot of things about Cas, but impulsive isn't one of them.

“I confess that matters of the heart can get a bit tricky sometimes,” Cas adds with a quiet chuckle. “The urge to throw reason far away from you has the tendency to become pretty strong on occasion. But please believe me when I tell you that I've never, not even for one second, forgot about the situation we're in, okay?”

Dean nods again. Because no matter what, he would never doubt his trust in Cas.

“It's not easy, I know that,” Cas agrees. “And this photo clearly popped up at the worst time ever. And it's also an important reminder that we should stay cautious, yes.”

Dean grinds his teeth. “Yeah, _that's_ what I've been saying this whole time –”

“But it's also a good reminder that it isn't impossible to remain out of the public eye,” Cas cuts in. “I deliberately associated myself with you in that moment in front of Benny's office. And we took all the precautions necessary and we succeeded in the end. One or maybe two of my students joking for a millisecond that your new bodyguard looks a little like their principal isn't the end of the world.”

Dean bites his bottom lip. On a rational level he knows that Cas is right, that one single person having a quick laugh about the resemblances is absolutely nothing to worry about. Nobody will give it a second thought and it would be easy to dismiss if it would ever come up again at some point. Which Dean highly doubts. Because his fans are probably right now way too occupied with the question whether he's actually in love with either his bodyguard or his _Mystery Crush_ to pay attention to anything beyond that.

Yes, Dean knows very well that there is no reason to freak out about it.

But he can't help recalling that this isn't the first time this happened. That this isn't the first time his fame and everything that comes attached to it ruined relationships with people he cared about.

And he'd rather paint Baby pink than ever seeing the same thing happen with Cas.

“Cas, man –”

“Okay, how about for a moment we forget about everything?” Cas suggests, stepping a bit closer again. “Your celebrity status, the paparazzi, the press, _everything_. It's just you and me, alright?”

Dean isn't really sure where this is going, but once again he's helpless against Cas' pull and nods his head in confirmation.

“I never meant to get you so agitated,” Cas says with a deep sigh. “I just – I just wanted to tell you how I feel. As simple as that.” He gazes at Dean, watches all the emotions running over his features, the hope, the doubt, the happiness, the reservation. And he smiles. “Because it _is_ that simple. This is only about us, nobody else.”

Dean presses his lips into a thin line and wonders if it really could be _that_ easy? Instinct and experience tell him otherwise, but he's been wrong before.

Maybe …

“Cas …” he whispers.

He has no idea what to say, how to react. He seriously never thought he would be in such a situation. He only expected to have a nice picnic with his best friend, a relaxing day filled with good food, laughter and great company.

But _this_?

He isn't prepared for any of this.

“I'm sorry, Dean,” Cas says, sounding sincerely regretful as he observes Dean's torn expression. “I had no intention to overwhelm you like this. I put you in an awkward position.”

Dean ducks his head. “No, Cas, it's fine …”

“I apologize for making things uncomfortable between us,” Cas continues. “I just thought –” He inhales deeply. “How about we just take a deep breath and allow ourselves some time to process everything –?” He pauses for a minute, obviously mulling things over in his head very thoroughly. And then he adds, with a weird note in his voice, “And, I mean … if you want we can forget this whole episode altogether … Just resume as we were and all that –”

Dean's chest start to ache.

Because as he looks at Cas, looks at the way the man subtly steps back, as though he figures Dean would want some space between them, he realizes he's been an insensitive ass.

Cas opened up to him, poured his freaking heart out. He fucking _wooed_ Dean with flowers and picnics and it's probably the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for him.

And how did Dean react?

By freaking out.

Granted, of course he's got a good reason for being cautious and he certainly stands by it, but that doesn't mean he has the right to ignore the most important issue here.

Because as he now watches Cas and the manner he clenches his jaw Dean suddenly realizes that Cas has no clue where he stands right now. Whether Dean returns any of his feelings. Since Dean spent all his time going crazy about photos and paparazzi and worrying about both their privacy.

Acting like Cas' feelings were an inconvenience. Just a cloud threatening to make their lives more complicated than they have to be.

Dean did all of this instead of focusing on the simple thing. The _easy_ thing.

Just like Cas said.

“How about you eat your pie?” Cas proposes, gesturing at their little picnic getup with a forced smile. “Let's just –”

“You're an idiot, Cas!” Dean cuts right in, not giving him any opportunity to even finish his thought.

And yeah, sure, he could be nicer about it and not call the guys names, but Dean's never been known for having good table manners to begin with.

Cas, meanwhile, just gapes at him in bewilderment. “What?”

Dean laughs anxiously. “You're an _idiot_ if you really think I'm not completely gone on you too!”

Cas' jaw goes slack at those words. Indicating that the moron seriously thought Dean wouldn't feel that way.

“Really?” Cas wonders, with so much awe in his tone it's almost painful.

“Yes, _of course_!” Dean actually growls. “I mean, have you seen the frigging interview? I've been crazy about you since I was a teenager and that never really changed. _Everyone_ knows.” He shakes his head with a huff. “And – and I thought you knew, too – or that you at least suspected or something – and that you just didn't say something to spare my feelings because you're a freaking gentleman like that –”

Cas frowns at that. He's clearly never been called that before.

“I just – I didn't think this could ever be a possibility,” Dean goes on. “I mean, you never said anything –”

Cas scoffs. “Neither did you!”

Dean rolls his eyes in fond exasperation as his heart soars with giddiness. “Dude, I kinda did,” he points out with a chuckle. “I bared my deepest feelings on fucking live TV and the only thing you did was joke about it with me.”

Cas' gaze gets so intense it actually begins to pierce holes through Dean's skin. “You were talking about a crush you had _twenty years ago_. I figured a bit of joking around would relax you after all of the drama involving the interview.”

“And it did,” Dean admits. “But, dude – you never really talked about it with me. I mean, don't get me wrong, I totally appreciated all the kidding around. Helped a lot to calm me down and everything …” He takes a deep breath. “But overall you barely mentioned it. And _never_ in a even remotely serious manner. So I figured … well.”

Cas' expression turns into something strained. “So you figured I wanted to avoid the topic of your feelings altogether.” He rubs his temples. “To spare your heart. Like the gentleman I'm allegedly am.”

Dean huffs. “Something like that.”

“Dean –”

“It's okay, dude,” Dean cuts in. “I mean, you're right, I was talking about a crush from twenty years ago. Why lay stress on that, huh?” In hindsight it seriously seems somewhat stupid to have grounded his assumptions about Cas' feelings on his failed reaction to something that's been ages ago. “God, I guess I'm an idiot, too.”

Cas' whole demeanor softens. “You're not, Dean,” he objects. “You're right, I should have talked with you about the interview. One single adult conversation could have saved us a lot of doubts and troubles.”

Isn't that always the story of life itself?

“But we're on the same page now,” he adds with a smile. “I guess that might count for something, doesn't it?”

Dean can't help a grimace. “Cas, man –”

“Don't you dare getting difficult again!” Cas scolds him with a raised finger.

The sight probably would've been hilarious if Dean's body wouldn't have been so busy to set his skin on fire.

“I'm just trying to look out for you, stupid,” Dean states. “Because I'm a freaking celebrity and that won't change over night –”

“I know that –”

“And that means – we can't go out on normal dates like everyone else,” Dean makes himself clear. “I can't take you to a nice restaurant or some movie theater to make out in the last row –”

He has to stop himself as he feels his cheeks warm up at the mere image.

“I don't care about that –” Cas tries to soothe him.

“I can't go to see Jack's next talent show,” Dean continues, his blood boiling. “Or chaperon at Claire's prom. And you – you can't show me off at your dad's big birthday next month. Hell, you can't even take me fucking grocery shopping!”

“Well, we've been successful that one time,” Cas reminds him. “Though you're right, we shouldn't make a habit out of it –”

“See?” Dean gestures around wildly. “We could never be a regular couple. We'd be forced to stay hidden and watch out for nosy people with their cameras all the time and – and I just want you to have a normal life and be happy –”

Cas huffs. “How the hell am I supposed to have a happy life without you in it?”

Dean doesn't know what to say to that.

He doesn't even know what to make of this whole thing in the first place. Just ten minutes ago he was overjoyed to indulge in a simple, yet delicious apple pie and now he feels like everything is collapsing around him.

And he's got no clue whether that's good or not.

His breathing increases, his heart beats loudly in his ribcage, and for all he knows he might go into cardiac arrest in the very next second. He takes a step back, hoping that at least a little distance might clear his head again.

But in the process Dean forgets a very critical detail.

The pond.

One second everything is fine, the next he feels the ground underneath him give in. He just has a brief moment to yelp in surprise and hear Cas call out an alarmed, “ _Dean_!” before he looses his footing and drops straight into the water.

As he crashes through the surface he senses a spark of panic, his instincts acting up all at once and making him dizzy for a moment there. The weirdest thoughts automatically rush across his mind when his body finds himself completely engulfed by water. His muscles spasm, his heart rate spikes up.

But thankfully the rational part of himself kicks in rather quickly and he remembers just a millisecond later that this is _just a fucking pond_. This stupid thing isn't even deep enough to swallow Sam's dogs whole, not to mention a grown-up man.

Dean would've laughed at himself if his lungs wouldn't have filled with water doing that.

So instead he does the next best thing: flailing his arms and trying to get enough balance to maneuver his leg below himself to stand up again.

Naturally he looks far from graceful, but he eventually manages to get most of himself out of the water. Also due to Cas' help who obviously jumped in right after him and helps him onto his feet now by grabbing Dean's arm and heaving him upwards.

It takes a bit of staggering around in the water before they reach the shore. Dean instantly dumps his upper body onto the ground while his legs still hang in the water, taking a deep breath and wondering for the probably millionth time how his life ended up to be such a mess.

“Come on, Dean, out of the water,” Cas urges, also still partly standing in the pond. He keeps on holding onto Dean and urges him to get his moves on.

Dean, however, is way too busy bursting into laughter.

Very loudly.

“ _Oh my God,_ ” he wheezes. “We're so ridiculous.”

Cas purses his lips, the concern on his features dissipating as he watches Dean laughing his ass off. “Well, _I_ am not the one who fell into the pond.”

Dean, though, keeps on cackling for a long minute and feels a weight lifting off his shoulders he didn't even realize to have been there in the first place.

“No, we _are_ ridiculous!” Dean insists with the widest grin. “I mean, look at us!”

Cas grimaces. “When I planned this picnic I didn't expect to be called a ridiculous idiot.”

“I'm also an idiot,” Dean clarifies. “We both are.”

Cas snorts at that. “That is very reassuring.”

Dean falls quiet after a while and instead finds himself looking at Cas with a warm sensation prickling in his chest. He looks at this gorgeous and crazy dumbass who seems so dead set on giving Dean everything he ever wished for, no matter the consequences.

So he reaches out, his hand finding the back of Cas' neck. Slowly playing with the soft hair underneath his fingertips.

“So you mean it?” Dean whispers. “About … y'know? Doing that thing?”

His choice of words is far from elegant, of course, but a) he can't be considered to possess full brain functions right now, and b) as expected it makes the corners of Cas' mouth twitch upwards in amusement.

“'Cause if you're really serious, you've definitely lost your mind somewhere along the way,” Dean clarifies. “Just so you know –”

“Oh, trust me, I _know_ ,” Cas emphasizes.

And then he looks at Dean in a way nobody has ever done before. Like Dean is the most important being in the whole wide universe.

And Dean feels helpless as he gets attacked with so many contradicting emotions all at once. He's terrified, he is excited, he is the calmest he's ever been in his life. Nothing seems to make sense and at the same time everything appears crystal clear.

Dean cracks a smile and dares to believe, hey, maybe there is honestly something there?

“Just for the record, though, please remember I warned you, so I seriously don't wanna hear you complain one day about being unable to go to that Italian restaurant around the corner with me or something like that –”

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Just shut up.”

Dean laughs, loud and carefree, as he nudges the back of Cas' neck and pulls him closer.

And still utterly convinced he's totally dreaming – because how else could this come true? – he meets Cas in the middle and kisses him.

Well, he tries to, at least.

Because for the first few seconds he's smiling way too hard to let any proper kissing happen, failing absolutely miserably in his task and not giving a damn. It's perfect, just as it is, being close to Cas in such a way.

And Cas is grinning widely as well, so Dean certainly isn't the only one doing a bad job here.

“You're right,” Cas breathes against his lips. “We _are_ ridiculous.”

Dean's smile gets even bigger at that and for a couple of moments more they continue to remain complete idiots gazing into each other's eyes and smashing their faces together.

And then, at some point, minutes or maybe hours later, their lips finally connect and it's soft and sweet and unhurried and tastes like pond in the grossest manner imaginable.

What could ever be better than that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -
> 
> Look at those idiots, finally figuring things out!!


	36. Sweetheart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, my friends!
> 
> Another two weeks have passed and once again I'm just blown away by all the love and support this story is getting 🥺 I honestly didn't expect any of this when I started writing and uploading and sometimes I'm still wondering if I'm just having a very long and very intense fever dream or something.
> 
> So, as I said many times before, you guys rock and I love you 💗
> 
> I hope you have fun with the new chapter!
> 
> -

Castiel hasn't kissed many different people before in his life, so he's far from an expert in the matter.

But he always thought it nice. A lovely way to be close to someone else. It definitely never made fireworks explode in his brain or whatever, but it left him with a pleasant sensation. A soft tingling in his chest.

Kissing Dean Winchester, though –

Well, it's surely an _experience_.

Castiel never really understood all those cheesy pop songs or romantic movies before as they claimed kissing to be the most amazing thing. Something people could actually do for _hours_ and never grow tired of it. The mere idea seemed so utterly alien to him he oftentimes wondered if this was just a cosmic joke he simply wasn't let in on. If people had a good laugh about it while he remained confused on the sidelines, too afraid to ask for specifics.

But when Dean kisses him Castiel can't help thinking that maybe there is indeed something more to this entire thing.

Dean is tentative at first, his lips lightly brushing over Castiel's. Obviously unsure what to do next. And Castiel is somewhat uncertain himself because at the end of the day, even though he is the one who initiated this, he has no real idea what he is doing either. But as he feels Dean's proximity and the brief contact of their lips send a thrill through his body like he never sensed before Castiel finds himself determined to get this show on the road.

To see for himself if all those songs and movies have been right all along.

So he surges forward and allows himself to get lost in the sensation. Allows himself to feel instead of think. To shut up his brain and its strong urge for control.

And it's exhilarating.

Dean makes this happy little sound in the back of his throat as Castiel presses himself closer and cards his fingers through the other man's hair. It's quite the gentle touch, to be honest, but it still makes him shiver from top to bottom when all his nerve endings start to prickle at once. He hums approvingly into Dean's mouth and can't help wondering how it would actually feel if Dean would tug at his strands a bit harder. A little more forceful.

He's close to asking just that when all of a sudden Dean's tongue brushes over Castiel's lips. Once again it's merely a tender thing, an exploration more than anything else, but Castiel's brain deep fries then and there.

He opens up to him, more on instinct than anything else, and Dean takes the invitation with much enthusiasm. He still keeps it chaste, just something tentative without deepening it so much, but it already feels so exhilarating Castiel can't even imagine how this could feel any more amazing.

And so they kiss and kiss and kiss.

And then …

Then Castiel just can't take it anymore.

All those wonderful sensations from Dean touching him everywhere are unfortunately unable to tune out one very important detail.

And so Castiel pulls backwards, with an expression of utter disgust on his face.

“Dear God,” he groans. “This is _horrible_.”

Dean laughs. “Dude, that's actually not what a guy wants to hear after a kiss –”

“No, but seriously!” Castiel insists, grimacing hard. “Did something _die_ in that pond? You taste atrocious.”

He smacks his lips and finds himself torn between memorizing Dean's touch on them for all eternity and forgetting the whole thing altogether, praying to God or whoever to never be reminded of it ever again.

“Why did you have to fall into the pond again?” Castiel complains as he gestures around them.

He's still lying half on top of Dean (which is nice) while both their legs and lower bodies remain in the water (which is far from nice). Dean is drenched all over and both tastes and starts to smell like he spent the entire summer in the sewer.

That's not exactly how Castiel imagined their first kiss to be.

And yet somehow it was still perfect.

“Hey, it's not like I planned this or something,” Dean says with a pout. “It was an accident.”

Castiel sighs. “Sometimes you're just a disaster waiting to happen, Dean Winchester.”

Of course the sensible thing would have been to get out of the water now. To struggle to their feet, pack up the picnic, return back home and shove Dean into a nice smelling shower after burning his clothes in a spectacular fire.

It would've been rational to do so.

But instead they stay right where they are. Sinking a bit further into the stinky pond, arms wrapped around each other.

And neither of them moves. Apparently completely happy with the arrangement.

Their faces remain barely inches apart, their foreheads touching as they look deep into each other's eyes.

It's probably the weirdest situation he's ever been in, but at the same time Castiel can't remember ever having been more intimate with someone than in this very moment.

He drinks all of it in, the sensation of Dean's hand on his waist, the disheveled mess that is his hair, the light blush on his cheeks. His lips, red and shiny. In Castiel's opinion he never looked more beautiful.

“So …” Dean whispers, his voice a bit hoarse like he hasn't used it in ages. “I guess … that happened, huh?”

He suddenly appears so bashful again, nothing like the confident man who just kissed the living daylight out of Castiel.

“Yes, this happened,” Castiel agrees with a chuckle. “And it was very nice.”

Dean bites his bottom lip. “Yeah?”

He sounds hopeful. As though, despite Castiel's very obvious participation, he wasn't really sure how the other man might react.

On first instinct Castiel wants to chide him for it and call him silly because it indeed seems a bit absurd to question the whole thing. But before Castiel is even able to open his mouth, he thinks better of it. Yes, it's their usual M.O. to tease and bicker, to diffuse charged situations by arguing about the most ridiculous topics. However, right here and now Castiel decides that the one thing Dean needs is a direct approach.

“It was more than nice,” Castiel clarifies, gazing straight into Dean's eyes. “And I would like to do it again if you don't have any objections.”

Dean chuckles, the tension in his muscles slowly dissipating.

“None whatsoever,” he assures. “I mean, it was – um, it was pretty awesome.”

Castiel enjoys seeing Dean like this. A bit shy, similar to a teenage boy just having been kissed by his crush for the first time. But also a little smug, the sight of Castiel probably all rumpled and weak in his knees something to behold.

Castiel likes this.

He likes it all.

He actually enjoys it so much that he keeps lying in that horrific pond water and not giving a damn about it.

“So,” Dean whispers eventually, his warm breath brushing over Castiel's cheek and making him shiver in the process. “I guess this is a date then, huh?”

Castiel blinks, having not the faintest idea what he's referring to.

Which is actually not that astonishing considering his brain stopped working the second their lips met.

“ _This_ ,” Dean clarifies with a chuckle and gestures around them. At the food, the pie, the blanket. “Inviting me to a romantic picnic in the middle of nowhere.”

Castiel mulls this over in his head. Technically he didn't really mean it as a date but just as another way of courting him and making his intentions obvious, however, there is no denying that the entire setup is certainly perfect for such a kind of rendezvous.

“Maybe,” he admits in the end. “Although I'm not so sure it counts as a date if one side of the party has been unaware of that fact.”

Dean's smile widens while he lets his finger card through Castiel's hair. He's still tentative about it, apparently still uncertain whether he's dreaming or not, whether he is allowed to touch Castiel in such a manner, whether everything might be over in the next minute –

But there is also this spark of unadulterated joy glinting in his eyes and even though it's small and hesitant, clearly cautious about all that is happening right now, it's still prominent and beautiful.

It surely forces Castiel to summon up all his willpower not to throw himself into Dean's arms like a mad man and never let him go ever again.

Instead he settles on letting out a pleased noise at the feeling of Dean's fingers gently skidding his skull and leaning into the touch. Making it more than obvious that he has no objections whatsoever against this sort of attention.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Dean confesses amused. “When I brought you to The Cloisters I was half convinced it was a date and at the same time wondering how it could be one with you not really having a clue about it, y'know?”

Castiel's smile deepens at the reminder. “Either way, I _really_ enjoyed that night.”

“Because of all the expositions or because we had to squeeze ourselves into that little alcove and practically were all over each other?”

Castiel laughs at that. “Well, both were very enjoyable.”

“You're sure right about that.”

They fall silent again, simply resuming to look at each other and taking their time processing what just occurred. The magnitude of it all.

But eventually Dean starts to squirm underneath him, clearly appearing uncomfortable. “Dude, not that I don't love having you on top of me and everything,” he says. And then immediately blushes at his own phrasing. “I'm, uh, I'm just –”

Castiel chuckles. “Do you want to get out of the pond?”

Dean nods vigorously at that. “I think something is trying to climb into my pants. I don't really want it to succeed.”

Castiel definitely can't blame him for that and after a bit of shuffling and fidgeting and generally just a horrific display of gracelessness that almost results in them tumbling headfirst into the water again they finally find themselves on solid ground.

Dean releases a deep sigh of relief before shaking himself like a wet dog. It looks quite ridiculous and weirdly endearing and only the memory of the pond water's taste keeps Castiel from stepping forward and pressing his lips against Dean's once more.

Instead he turns toward their picnic and starts packing up all the food and containers sprawled on top of it. He hesitates for a moment when he's about to reach out for the pie – still completely untouched because Dean had been way too busy to spill out his deepest feelings, drop into a pond and kiss Castiel to remember eating any pastries – and can't help a little smile. There are probably not many things out there in the world that could make Dean Winchester himself forget about a pie and Castiel feels stupidly pleased that he obviously is one of them.

The walk back to Dean's house is about twenty minutes and stays completely uneventful. They just take turns carrying the picnic basket and shoot each other bashful smiles here and there when their gazes meet. Apart from that they remain quiet, both of them obviously allowing themselves the time to process what just happened. At least Castiel still feels rather overwhelmed and he actually had the advantage of being not totally blindsided by this as Dean was. So yes, it's fair to assume that Dean has a lot on his mind right now.

But since he seems more elated than anything else Castiel decides not to worry about that.

When they finally return back home Dean is naturally the first to call dibs on the shower. Granted, Castiel's pant legs are pretty soaked as well because he was stupid enough to jump after Dean in some sort of heroic delusion and he finds himself more than desperate to wash the pond's stink off his body, but Dean is definitely worse to wear and Castiel is more than happy to defer to him.

So when Dean slips into the bathroom Castiel wholeheartedly forces himself _not_ to imagine him standing under the spray, all naked and wet, and instead focuses on the task at hand. After putting some of the leftover food into the fridge and placing the pie onto the counter for Dean to see first thing he heads towards the laundry room to get rid of his smelly pants. He throws them into the machine right with Dean's clothes he disposed there earlier, adds some additional ones from the laundry basket by the door to fill it up and not waste water and energy on only a few pieces, and starts the washing machine.

Dean probably won't be all that thrilled with Castiel doing chores instead of being a lazy guest like he's supposed to, but Castiel certainly isn't going to apologize for getting this show on the road without any further delays.

He walks back to his room, merely in his boxers because he sees no point putting some new pants on without a cleaning shower first, and picks up his phone he left on the nightstand before.

For a moment he hesitates, his finger hovering over the contact he automatically selected out of his address book, and starts to wonder for several minutes whether it's too early to burst out the big news. After all, it hasn't really settled in yet.

But as he looks at Claire's latest message from the last few days, overly curious about the proceedings, always encouraging him to raise the bar up a bit when Castiel once again complained about Dean's utter lack of response, Castiel figures if anyone deserves to know what is happening right now, it is undoubtedly her.

So he takes a deep breath and begins to type, all too aware that a storm will hit him full force soon after that.

 **Castiel [1:46 PM]:** _Tell Jack his courting strategy was finally successful._

As expected Castiel doesn't even have time to pick up some new clothes for him to wear after his shower before his phone begins to ring.

He accepts the video call with a gentle smile, warmed by all her enthusiasm, and throws a blanket over his exposed and still kinda damp feeling legs at the same time because even despite the warm weather it's starting to get a little cold down there.

“ _Dad_!” Claire's grin is so wide it takes up almost all the space on the phone's screen. “Are you seriously telling me the dense idiot finally caught up to you?”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “Dean is not dense –”

“Well, he is a little bit,” Claire points out. “I mean, you brought him flowers several days in a row. What is not to get?”

Castiel has to admit he felt somewhat discouraged when Dean failed to see through it, but it surely didn't stop him from trying over and over.

“So tell me, what happened?” Claire asks, her eyes lighting up in excitement as she leans her face almost painfully close to the screen. “Did you finally resolve to smacking him over the head with a sledgehammer?”

Castiel wants to snort at that, but when he takes a moment to think about it it's actually not that far from the truth. So he admits, albeit a little reluctantly, “I did have to be very blunt with him in the end, yes.”

Claire laughs at that. She obviously didn't expect anything less.

“So what happened?” she urges. “You straight out told him you want to have his babies?”

Castiel rolls his eyes and decides to ignore her snark comment. “We went for a picnic. Dean fell into a pond. We kissed.”

Claire raises her eyebrows in surprise. “For real?”

Of course there is way more to the story, but Castiel considers this way too personal to share it with anyone yet. Not without having a proper talk with Dean first.

“That's the summary, yes,” he confirms.

“Huh.”

For a minute Claire simply stays silent and assesses her father with an odd expression, like she can't really determine what to make of him.

And in the end she shakes her head in exasperation.

“Are all adults so weird about this sort of thing?” she wonders. “Or is that just you?”

Castiel pulls a face. “That's just me, I'm afraid.”

“You and Dean.”

Castiel definitely likes the sound of that. “Yes.”

Claire huffs. “Seems like you're made for each other.”

Castiel presses his lips tightly together and tells himself over and over not to blush at the indication. Because he is pretty sure he would never hear the end of it.

“The entire thing surely was the opposite of smooth, I'll admit to that,” Castiel confesses graciously. “It's almost a shame we didn't record it for future generations.”

“It certainly would've been a hit at your wedding,” Claire teases.

Castiel shoots her a look and refuses to deem that with an answer.

Claire, however, doesn't appear to be impressed by that. “You can still use the story in your wedding vows, though,” she suggests with a smirk. “People will love that.”

Castiel sighs. “Claire –”

“What? It's too good to let it go to waste.” She shrugs, her expression exaggeratedly innocent. “But fine, if you won't use it, I will. My wedding toast's gonna be the highlight of the whole event –”

“ _Claire_ –”

“Don't be like that, Dad. With the total lack of speed you two knuckleheads have been going forward in the last few months it's actually not too early to plan your wedding already.”

Castiel grimaces and seriously starts to regret to ever have reached out to her in the first place.

“You might not see it that way, but you've actually been in a long distance relationship with the guy for a while now,” Claire continues, determined as a dog with its bone. “So it's only reasonable to –”

“Thank you, I get it,” Castiel hastily cuts her off mid-sentence before his discomfort level might spike through the roof. “How about you allow me to take one step at a time? Both of us?”

Claire squints her eyes at him and for a moment Castiel is convinced she would dismiss his wishes and just go on with her elaborate wedding plans. But in the end she throws him a soothing smile and concedes, “Okay, fine, do your thing. If I'm being honest with you I don't wanna know too much details anyway. I could end up traumatized.”

Castiel laughs. “I guess that's fair.”

They chat for a bit more, about Jack and his new obsession with moose, about Daphne almost poisoning them the other day when she tried to cook for them, about Kaia adopting a stray cat the week before and naming that fuzzy thing Cheshire (and Claire gets adorably flustered talking about anything Kaia related), and before Castiel knows it he hears footsteps in the hallway and they quickly say their goodbyes.

Because as much as he loves his daughter he _seriously_ needs that shower.

It's only a few seconds later when Dean shows up at his door, wrapped in a pair of well-fitting jeans and a henley that looks criminally amazing on him. His cheeks are still a bit flushed from the warm shower, his hair damp, and Castiel feels a pang in his chest just looking at him.

“Um, sorry it took so long,” Dean apologizes, gesturing into the direction of the bathroom down the hall. “I had to scrub myself off at least five times until that pond smell went off.”

It takes all of Castiel's willpower not to whimper at the mental image of Dean 'scrubbing himself off'.

“Uh, yeah,” Dean mutters, fidgeting in the doorway like a skittish animal not really sure whether it should flee or step closer. “Shower's all yours, man.”

Castiel just wants to stand up and pull the man in front of him into a reassuring hug, but he's still got that blanket on his lap, just wearing boxers underneath, and he fears that this might a little too much for Dean's brain right now.

So instead he settles on sending him a gentle smile. “Thank you, Dean.”

Dean makes some incoherent sounds and appears all kinds of awkward as he looks anywhere but at Castiel. “Yeah, no – no problem –”

Castiel can't help beginning to feel a bit insecure watching Dean uncomfortable like that. He seemed elated enough before, excited in a positive manner about what occurred between them. However, Castiel also certainly noticed a sort of daze in his eyes. Like a man wondering whether he's awake or sleeping.

And perhaps having some time for himself just now in the shower and getting the opportunity to process things in a quiet way might have given him a new perspective on everything.

Castiel is unable to say if that's a good or a bad thing.

“Are you alright, Dean?” he asks, concern clear in his voice.

For a long moment Dean merely focuses his gaze on Castiel and stares. Intense. Calculating. Yet with a hint of nervousness flickering over his features.

And then, before Castiel gets the chance to ask any more imploring questions, Dean spurs into action.

He strides into the room, like a man on a mission, pure determination on his face, and directly heads for Castiel. His movements are sure, no caution, no hesitation. Just someone who knows what he wants.

And when he halts right in front of Castiel he doesn't wait around as he bends forward and presses a kiss onto the man's lips.

It's just a brief thing, but it's deep and filled with promises, and after a millisecond of surprise Castiel happily reciprocates.

“I hope I'm tasting better now,” Dean whispers against Castiel's lips, a bright smile almost splitting his face in half. He looks relaxed and calm, like kissing Castiel was all he needed to get the tension out of his muscles.

Castiel finds himself chuckling, registering something stupidly giddy bubbling in his ribcage. “You taste distinctively less like pond,” he confirms.

Dean makes a humming noise and kisses him chastely once more before pulling back. “That's good to know. Hopefully the shower will do the same for you.”

Castiel's smile immediately morphs into a scowl. “ _Hey_! I'm not as bad as you were.”

Dean grins cheekily. “And yet you're smelling like dead fish and duck crap right now.”

Castiel's glare deepens, ready to make his point. But he's promptly intercepted by Dean reaching out and ruffling his hair in a playful manner.

“Enjoy your shower, sweetheart,” Dean teases.

And then the bastard has the audacity to _wink_ at Castiel before swaggering out of the room. Only knowing too well what he's doing to the other man with the pet names and those hips movements and practically everything else, like _existing_ and being gorgeous and whatnot.

Castiel's life has surely never been easy.

And it seems that Dean is keen on making it even harder.

This time, however, Castiel can't say he terribly minds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at them, still being a bit bashful and awkward, but slowly getting the hang of it 😁
> 
> And I hope your teeth survived all that fluff! In case of cavities please contact my health insurance, I'm sure we'll figure something out ;)


	37. What Now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, my friends!
> 
> And it's, once again, the time of the week where I'm bringing you a brandnew chapter filled with fluff and idiots in love :D
> 
> In the past few weeks I also made a lot of progress on this fic *throws confetti into the air*  
> However, I'm gonna have to wait on changing to a weekly schedule again for a while longer unfortunately. I'll be in the hospital tomorrow for a few days for several tests and treatments (some of them won't be pretty >.<) and if my doctors' suspicion about my condition might end up true I'm gonna have to deal with new medications and perhaps other therapies and such. And since I can't anticipate how well or not I'll handle that in the end I figured keeping the biweekly schedule for now is certainly the safest bet. At least I wouldn't want to have to change it yet again mid-story >.<
> 
> But I wanted to assure you that this story is very close to my heart and that interacting with you guys and reading all your lovely comments have been my personal highlight, especially in the last few weeks!! You truly helped me to get my mind off things and for that I'm extremely grateful 💗💗
> 
> And so now, without further ado, I hope you'll have fun with the new chapter!
> 
> And please don't forget to brush your teeth before reading, it's gonna get sweet and fluffy ;)
> 
> -

Cas doesn't look surprised in the slightest when he returns from his shower and finds Dean in the kitchen with his pie.

“I should've figured,” Cas says with a chuckle.

Dean, just munching happily on a piece of the most heavenly apple filling, merely shrugs his shoulder in a completely unapologetic manner. He doesn't give a damn that he's eating the whole thing straight out of the box like a caveman not even knowing that plates exist and he's not ashamed to stand by it.

Cas watches him for a moment with gentle amusement before he gets himself his own fork and sits down on the bar stool at the counter right across from Dean.

“Just so you know,” Dean says mock-threateningly, “but I usually don't share my pie.”

Cas shamelessly plunges his fork through the flaky crust. “I hope I'm the exception?”

Dean pulls the box closer to himself and snorts. “Dude, you wish.”

Cas pouts for a second in that adorable way of his, but then he stands up again, walks around the counter until he's right beside Dean. “Maybe I can change your mind?”

Before Dean is able to come up with a witty remark Cas leans forward and presses a kiss into his lips. It's sweet and unhurried and Dean immediately forgets everything pie related as he turns toward Cas, frames the man's face with his hands and decides to get lost in the sensation.

It still feels more than surreal to actually be kissing the guy, but it's also the most awesome feeling and Dean's sure as hell gonna enjoy it.

Because it's been so damned long since someone kissed him like this. Like he's precious, like he matters. No hidden agenda, no means to an end, not just simple foreplay before clothes get ripped off and you reach the actual sex part.

No, this is kissing for kissing' sake. This is intimacy and being close to each other. Nothing more and _definitely_ nothing less.

And Dean loves it.

It certainly never felt like this before. Like the answer to a question he didn't even realize he's been asking himself his whole life. And that might sound corny and way too soon considering they just started to figure stuff out about two hours ago, but Dean can't help himself.

With Cas he _always_ can't help himself.

And so he smiles like a dazed idiot when Cas eventually pulls back a little and licks his lips, keen on chasing the taste. Cas studies the motion quite intently, a spark lighting up in his eyes Dean has never seen before.

“Cas …” Dean whispers. He doesn't even know what he wants to say, his voice raspy and needy. He can't even remember the last time he sounded like that apart from various movie scenes about his character becoming overly emotional with his respective love interest while dramatic music was playing in the background.

“Dean …” Cas breathes in response, his face so close to Dean's. It would only take a little surge and they would be kissing again …

So Dean leans in, hoping to pick it up again.

And Cas …

Well, the motherfucker suddenly grins smugly at Dean, gets his fork from out of nowhere and sinks it deep into the delicious apple pie. Dean's jaw goes slack in surprise as he helplessly watches Cas take a huge piece for himself and put it into his mouth.

As he chews he looks so damned pleased with himself Dean has no clue if he should feel offended or aroused by the whole situation.

“ _Dude_!” he eventually manages to complain. “Not cool.”

Cas merely chuckles and shamelessly gets himself another piece.

And Dean lets him. Under normal circumstances he would've fought for his pie, most likely even to death, if he would've needed, but looking at Cas enjoying something so expressively and teasing Dean in the process is too much to deal with at this point.

So he keeps on watching and finds himself wondering how he ended up here. For most of his life such a scenario had been nothing more than a dream, a pleasant fantasy he indulged in once in a while when he felt particularly lonely, but now it's suddenly a shocking reality and Dean just feels overwhelmed.

How the hell did he get here?

“What is it?” Cas asks after a moment, easily noticing Dean's weird mood switch.

Dean makes a vague noise, not really sure how to explain himself.

“It's just – this should feel weird, right?” he wonders. “I mean, after all this time – and we've been friends for so long now …”

“This feels weird to you?” Cas asks. He doesn't sound insulted or even hurt at the implication, merely open-minded. As though he just can't wait to acknowledge Dean's feelings and have a heart-to-heart, right here next to the pie.

And so Dean doesn't hesitate to admit, “Well, yes and no. Kinda.”

Cas laughs quietly. “That is very enlightening, thanks.”

“Shut up, jackass,” Dean huffs playfully. “I'm just saying, it _should_ feel weird. And it actually does, a little bit. But it's also weird how _not_ weird it is, if you know what I'm trying to say here.”

Cas pats his arm soothingly. “Don't worry, I get it.”

“I mean, the whole fucking situation is a bit strange if you think about it,” Dean adds. “We're practically living together for the time being and the whole time I'm thinking, _what now_? Do we try baby steps first? Or jump right in? Do we discuss official relationship statuses already or keep it casual first? Should I tell people we're just dating or that we're going steady or whatever kids call it these days? Should I tell them anything at all?”

For a moment Dean is convinced Cas would laugh at him, amused by the other man talking himself into a frenzy, and Dean certainly wouldn't have blamed him for that. It does seem a bit ridiculous to get so worked up over this.

But instead with laughter Dean is met with an understanding smile. “You make some very valid points. And it's certainly important to talk about it.”

Dean finds himself feeling somewhat self-conscious about this. “You sure?”

“Of course,” Cas confirms without any hesitation. “I don't want you to feel uncomfortable. Like you've been left hanging in the air, not really sure what to do next. And I don't want to feel like that either.”

Dean nods. That's fair.

“I guess it's just an unusual situation,” he says. “Normally, I dunno – you go on a date with a guy and do date stuff, and afterwards you bring them to their front door and get a kiss if you're lucky, and you part ways and take a few days and plan another date, hopefully …”

Cas chuckles at that. “I guess we always have been a bit unusual, haven't we?”

Dean looks at him. At his easy-going smile, his ridiculously blue eyes, that one strand of rebellious hair sticking to his forehead.

He looks at it all and makes a decision.

“How about we do it the traditional way then?” he suggests, aiming for nonchalant even though he's a bit nervous. “Be mainstream for a change and all that stuff.”

Cas frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Let's go on a date.”

Dean grins brightly as the idea slowly begins to take form in his mind. It's not perfect yet, still a little blurry around the edges, but it's surely not the worst plan he ever had.

“You want to go on a date?” Cas wonders. He sounds somewhat confused, but Dean detects also a note of curiosity in his voice.

“Yeah, I mean, like I said, we can't just go out there into the world and show each other off,” Dean reminds him. “That would be like the shortest date in the history of humanity. But that doesn't mean we can't do something nice, just the two of us. Don't you think? A first date with all the awkwardness and stilted small talk and desperate attempts not to make a fool of ourselves in front of the other.”

Cas leans forward on the counter, now definitely intrigued. “What do you have in mind?”

“I'll think of something,” Dean states, hoping he sounds confident enough. “You just 'stay at home' and wait for me to pick you up. How does 6 PM sound?”

“So you basically want me to hole down in my room all alone for several hours and wait impatiently for you to knock on my door?” Cas asks, amusement wavering in his tone.

“Well, I've got shit to prepare,” Dean points out. “Wouldn't make much sense for you to sit on the couch the whole time and watch everything, would it? What kind of date would that be?”

“One lacking any surprises,” Cas agrees.

“See?”

Cas laughs. “So you're banning me to my room, is that it?”

Dean grimaces. “If you think this is a stupid idea, just say so –”

“No, no,” Cas quickly cuts in. “It's actually really sweet.”

“Yeah?”

“Besides, it's quite convenient,” Cas adds. “I've got lots of work emails I have to go through. I might use the unexpected free time to do just that.”

Dean huffs. “Work? During summer break?”

“Students may have time off, but admin never sleeps.”

Dean isn't really sure whether Cas is actually serious about this or simply making some stuff up for Dean to feel better about the entire situation, but the guy seems calm and happy and also a little excited for what is about to come and Dean is certainly willing to work with that.

“Okay, fine,” he exclaims. “Then _shoo_ , get out of my way.”

Dean's honestly not really sure yet what kind of date he might pull out of his ass, but he most definitely won't have any chance to concentrate on his task with Cas hanging around looking at him with those gorgeous eyes. No man would've been able to keep a straight thought in such circumstances.

“You're clearly a romantic,” Cas teases before shamelessly snitching another bite of the pie. “I can't wait to be swept off my feet.”

And then he leans in again, almost out of instinct, like it's already second nature, and Dean for his part is quick to react as well, turning his head and wetting his lips in preparation, his heart beating fast as Cas' breath starts to intermingle with his.

And then Cas suddenly stops, merely inches before their lips touch.

Deeply in thought, it appears.

“Well, if we really do this the proper way,” he says slowly, taking his time to mull this over in his head, “then I guess we have to wait for the traditional goodnight kiss _after_ our date, right?”

Dean finds himself pouting like a five-year-old at that. “You don't have to take it _that_ seriously, man.”

Cas lifts his brow, managing to look both innocent and wicked. “But I very much think so, yes. I'm not that easy, Mr. Winchester. You need to buy me at least dinner first.”

Dean chuckles. Why the hell he decided to go crazy for such a dork he'll probably never know.

“You're an idiot, Cas,” he states, just to make a point. “But fine, have it your way. No piece of _that_ ,” he gestures at himself while puffing up his chest, “for the time being. Though I hardly believe you'll be able to keep your hands off me until the end of the date.”

Cas presses his lips into a thin line, clearly stifling a laugh. “Is that a challenge?”

Dean leans back again, a smug smile on his lips. “It's a promise, babe.”

  
  


\---

  
  


At first Dean has no idea how he should even pull this off.

Sure, he likes to think he has a romantic streak somewhere buried deep inside of him, but the truth is he's barely getting by. All that sappy stuff is not really his thing. So he's always been more than happy to let others offer him suggestions and plan his romantic outings in great detail while Dean just held on for the ride.

But now he's all on his own, with no one around to take over the emotional part of the evening. He can't make a reservation at a nice restaurant with candle light and soft live music. He can't rent an entire museum again and make Cas feel like the king of the world. He can't just go out there and let himself be carried away by the stream.

His own idea of romance is simply hanging out, talking about everything and nothing and maybe watching a good movie or two. When the date is going exceptionally great you may even switch that to a purposely horrible movie so you have a great excuse to make out like teenagers for hours.

It's certainly not the height of romance, that's for sure. And even though Cas probably wouldn't mind spending the rest of the day on the couch with Dean and calling that a date, he certainly deserves better.

After picking up flowers every single day and getting Dean's favorite pie and organizing a whole freaking picnic at a romantic spot (minus the stinky pond) he's surely worthy of something much more.

And so Dean decides here and then to get his shit together and go to work.

  
  


\---

  
  


In the end it's nothing fancy.

It's probably even way too normal to brag about.

But as Dean finishes up the last preparations he can't help feeling a bit proud of himself. He always likes to do something nice for someone else – might it be a partner or his family and friends – and he's pretty sure Cas will appreciate all the effort and gift Dean with one of his gorgeous gummy smiles.

Dean can't wait.

When he puts the roast in the oven he glances one last time at the clock on the wall and notices that he's got about twenty minutes left. He does a final sweep over the kitchen and living room, making sure that everything is in its place, before walking upstairs and slipping into his bedroom.

Ignoring his nerves slowly becoming jittery he takes a look at the mirror. He wrapped himself into some sweatpants and a comfy shirt a while ago because he didn't want any potential accidents ruin his wardrobe. And even though he looks fine and Cas probably wouldn't mind a casual attire this is a special occasion and Cas certainly deserves Dean at his very best.

So he chugs the loose sweatpants and changes back into the tight jeans he put on right after his shower earlier before because a) they're the nicest pair of pants he's got lying around here, and b) he looks hella good in them. At least he already noticed Cas sneaking up a few glances at Dean's ass in that denim and Dean would have no problem whatsoever with the guy doing that again and again all evening.

Then he takes another five minutes to decide on the rest on his outfit and eventually settles on that green shirt people always claim makes his eyes pop (whatever the hell that means) and his slippers instead of some fancy outdoor shoes because that touch of domesticity combined with that nice attire surely sends a prominent message.

So when Dean ends up checking himself out in the mirror he nods once, satisfied with what he's seeing, and then strides over to Cas' bedroom.

And at exactly 6 PM Dean knocks at the door.

He feels a bit stupid being so giddy about the whole thing, but it's totally out of his control. He's suddenly that dumb fourteen-year-old again who's always been so excited to simply exist in Cas' vicinity and who regularly stumbled over his own two feet as soon as the guy even glanced in his general direction.

Dean wonders if Cas might experience something similar.

He doesn't have much time to mull this over, though, as the door opens just a moment later. And when Cas reveals himself right in front of him Dean's mouth instantly goes dry.

Cas obviously figured to dress up for the occasion as well, and _DAMN_ , did he do an amazing job with it. The slacks he's wearing are formfitting and to die for, his shirt is unbuttoned at the top and its sleeves rolled up in an almost obscene manner, showing everything of Cas' muscular forearms.

_And_ then there is the very familiar waistcoat. Dean actually whimpers quietly at the sight of it.

That bastard knows _exactly_ what he's doing to the other man.

At least his smile is painfully smug as he watches Dean's knees going weak and that's all Dean needs to know.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas greets him. “You look very nice.”

Dean makes some incoherent noises and curses the day he met this guy. “Uuuhh … you – you, too.”

It's, of course, a shameless understatement of the highest order, but if Dean would actually tell him the truth about how he really feels this evening wouldn't remain PG-rated for very long.

And even though the image of them abandoning everything and instead going over to roll between the sheets for the rest of the night is all kinds of thrilling and mind-blowing, Dean's got some special plans and he seriously wants to make it right. Cas deserves to get his ass wooed off and that is exactly what Dean intends to do.

So he gestures down the hallway and asks, “Shall we?”

Cas sweeps his gaze over Dean's appearance one last time, like he's determined to save that sight in his memory for all eternity, and smiles brightly as Dean holds out his arm for Cas to link his with.

“Quite the gentleman, I see,” Cas remarks, in a horrible, over-the-top British accent. It sounds utterly ridiculous and Dean laughs the whole way downstairs.

Entering the kitchen/living area Cas halts at the doorway at first, his eyes curiously glancing all over the place. It's not like Dean had any corny decorations at hand to boost everything up and make it at least appear like a fancy and super expensive restaurant, but he tried to let it look extra nice. He even put out his fine dinnerware he usually only takes out for Christmas and scattered every single nice candle he could find in his stock all over the place. Of course he didn't lit any of them yet because it's 6 PM in August and the sun is still shining brightly, but Dean hopes the date might take long enough for him to get an opportunity to create a more romantic atmosphere with those two-hundred candles.

Cas at least beams at the cleaned up sight as though Dean managed to build an entire restaurant in just a few hours. And as finally the whiff of the food in the oven hits his nose his face lights up spectacularly.

“This smells amazing,” he sighs, sounding just like a man who can't wait to dig into all the good stuff.

Dean tries not to blush as he explains, “It's just roast and baked potatoes. The best I could come up with in such short notice.”

“Stop selling yourself short,” Cas chides him. “I can't wait to taste it.”

Dean feels his heart soar at all the enthusiasm. Organizing this date definitely has been a great idea, no question about that.

“It'll take about another twenty minutes until the food is ready,” he informs Cas. “And since I tried to recreate a real restaurant atmosphere I figured we could do with some live music while we wait, what do you say?”

Cas perks up immediately. “Live music?”

Dean just smiles and gently nudges him to the couch in the living room. Cas follows easily, looking both confused and amused as he sits down.

Dean, meanwhile, allows himself a playful smile as he takes place at the armchair across from him and pulls out his guitar from its subtle hiding place.

Cas' eyes grow big right away. “You play the guitar?”

“Did I never mention this before?” Dean tries for innocence even though he knows perfectly well that he never even hinted at it before during their excessive conversations completely on purpose. He waited for a moment to surprise the guy when he would least expect it, to see that expression of astonishment and awe on his face Dean is confronted with right now.

It was definitely worth the wait.

Not giving Cas much of a chance to get emotional about it (because Dean knows he wouldn't be able to concentrate that way) he instantly focuses on the instrument in his hands, at first carefully plucking the strings to get a feel for it again and then leaping all in.

Dean's aware that he's far from a professional player, but he considers himself at least good enough not to be embarrassed to show off his skills in private company. And so, instead of getting any performance issues, he simply goes with the flow and trusts his well-rehearsed motions.

When he initiates the first chords of “Hey Jude” Cas immediately listens up, recognizing the song from the get-go. And considering the fact that Dean used to play, hum, and sing that special piece more often than not in his youth it's no real wonder. It was Mom's lullaby for both him and Sam, her favorite song to chant (mostly off-key) throughout the entire house, and evidently it was the first thing Dean learned for his guitar.

And now he's sitting here, at his first official date with Cas, and just lets the memory wash over him.

He feels the notes, feels the rhythm, and then he opens his mouth and begins to sing. He knows it isn't completely perfect, his vocal range wobbly at best, but overall he doesn't sound too terrible, in his opinion. At least good enough to subject Cas to it without any hesitation.

And when he notices Cas gasping in surprise at Dean suddenly starting to sing, awe in his voice, Dean knows he did the right thing.

He allows himself a little smile before getting lost in the song again. He remembers the first time Dean played it to Cas, on some old mixtape his mom had made him a few weeks prior. How Cas looked so serene and happy listening to it. How he told his friend afterwards it's a very nice song, “thank you for introducing it to me, Dean”. How Dean made it a habit after that to hum it underneath his breath more often than not in the guy's company, enjoying the soft expression it always put on Cas' face.

Yes, Dean remembers it all as the song floats through the air around them.

And when it eventually comes to an end he finally dares to glimpse at Cas on the couch. He's expecting emotions and maybe some heart eyes or something.

But instead Cas is grimacing _hard_. He looks like he's in serious pain.

Dean frowns. “You okay, man?”

Cas grinds his teeth and honest-to-God _glares_ at Dean with the power of a thousand suns. “You're not being fair! How _dare_ you?”

His whole body is twitching, like it's taking all of his strength to keep himself from reaching out for Dean, and Dean can't help an amused chuckle as he suddenly realizes what's going on.

“What's the matter, Cas?” Dean teases. “Having some trouble controlling yourself not to climb me like a tree right now?”

He laughs wholeheartedly, Cas' current situation more than flattering for him. The guy obviously thought it would be easy enough to hold himself back and wait for their traditional goodnight kiss after the date, and Dean feels all kinds of smug that Cas is already showing signs of utter distress after only ten minutes.

“Just come over here and kiss me then,” Dean urges him with a snicker. “I promise, I won't gloat.” When Cas sends him an incredulous look, he adds, “Too much.”

Cas snorts. “You're an incorrigible smartass,” he complains. “Why do I even put up with you?”

“Because of my charm and my sparkling personality?”

“No, that's not it.” Cas shakes his head way too vehemently.

“Then perhaps you're just a masochist?”

“That sounds more likely, yes.”

Cas seems as though he's giving the whole thing a very serious thought while Dean just grins stupidly to himself and enjoys his success.

It looks like this date is going to be lots of fun.


	38. Full Frontal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, my friends!
> 
> First of all, I hope you had an amazing week, no matter if you celebrated Christmas, Hanukkah or just your lone time on the couch with your fave video games or your Netflix account :D 
> 
> You deserve all the best, loves 💗
> 
> Because your sweet comments surely brightened up my stay in the hospital which stretched out to nearly a week in the end, hallelujah >.< And I got the diagnosis I've been expecting and dreading for the last few weeks! On the one hand it's good to have a proper confirmation and not just a “maybe, maybe not, but yeah, probably”, but on the other hand it's quite a shock to the system for me. I still had some hope that it was only a temporary thing and not something I would have to deal with for the rest of my life now.
> 
> And to be perfectly honest, for the first couple of days I felt so crappy physically and mentally I was dead-set on dropping everything and going on an indefinite hiatus. But then the holidays and the time with my family did me the world of good and after I tentatively tried some writing again I realized THIS is my happy place 💕
> 
> Writing and interacting with all of you guys currently puts a big smile on my face and I will hold onto that!! (That AND binge-watching “Golden Girls” because nothing could ever put me in a better mood than those four ladies 😂)
> 
> So yeah, of course no guarantees that it won't hit me like a freight train next week or even tomorrow and I will end up deciding on a personal hiatus nonetheless, but for now I seriously don't wanna miss you *pulls you all into a big hug*
> 
> So thank you so much, guys, for being my little safe haven right now!!
> 
> -

As expected the food is absolutely amazing.

The roast on point, the baked potatoes crispy and Dean even lowered himself to make some fresh salad. Castiel feels so spoiled by all of this he can't fight the stupidest grin in existence as he watches Dean plate everything in restaurant-like artistic quality.

And Castiel doesn't wait around and digs right in. Mainly because he's tremendously hungry and doesn't have any patience left, but also because it gives his mouth something to occupy itself with. The last twenty minutes it's been especially vocal to _l_ _ean in and kiss the guy, DAMMIT_ and Castiel honestly would've hated to allow Dean that satisfaction. The man already looks far too smug for his own good, serenading Castiel with music and flirty smiles, and it wouldn't be beneficial for his ego if Castiel would have given in in the end.

So yes, food it is.

Delicious, irresistible food. Castiel surely doesn't hold back and moans expressively at every other bite, taking quite the pleasure in watching Dean squirming on his seat for a change.

Two definitely can play this game.

“So, Dean,” Castiel picks up his voice after he managed to appease his first hunger, “tell me about yourself.”

Dean looks at him in genuine confusion.

Castiel finds himself smirking. “This is a first date, right? With all the awkwardness and stilted small talk?”

At least Dean mentioned that this was exactly what he was going for and Castiel would be more than happy to accommodate him in that regard.

Realization quickly flashes over Dean's features. “Oh yeah, right.”

He chuckles at that, clearly amused that Castiel would just go for it.

“What do you want to know?”

Castiel quirks his head from one side to the other and contemplates what would be the most stereotypical things to talk about at such an occasion. It's been a really long while since he's been on something you might even call a date and he finds himself a little rusty on the details.

But then again, he's consumed enough media to have a vague grip on the scene.

“Well,” he says as he lays on a mockingly playful smile, “what do you do for a living?”

Dean barks a laugh at that. “You're going straight for the big guns, huh?”

“I need to know what I'm working with here,” Castiel points out with a huff. “I have standards, you know? I can't be seen with some low life who's still living in his mother's basement and plays video games all day.”

Dean's eyes sparkle joyously. “I guess you're not wrong.”

“So?”

“I'm an actor.”

Castiel makes quite a show of grimacing disapprovingly. “Oh dear,” he mumbles. “Flippant lifestyle, no stability, high unemployment. I'm not so sure you're such a catch, Dan.”

Dean presses his lips tightly together, clearly stifling a laugh. “It's Dean,” he corrects him, his voice surprisingly steady for someone so close to breaking character.

“Yes, right, _Dean_.” Castiel stretches the name like he hadn't really used it ever before in his life. “Apologies.”

“It's fine, um – Cas-teel?” Dean squints his eyes as though his brain has serious trouble articulating the name. “You mind if I call you Cas? Your name is quite a mouthful and all that.”

“Knock yourself out.”

“Thanks.” Dean grins. “And I'll have you know that I'm doing alright. At least I'm able to pay my bills like a big boy.”

“Well, I'm inclined to believe you. For now.”

They continue like this for the rest of the meal. It might look stupid and ridiculous from the outside, but Castiel has tremendous fun getting all silly for a change. They tease, they pretend to be awkward and nervous, they tell stories of their lives, some close to the truth, some just downright crazy and over-the-top absurd. They even manage to work some (fake) uncomfortable silences into their conversation, just like on a real first date.

The whole experience, indeed.

It's when they have finished their dessert – some delicious caramel pudding Dean had quickly made from scratch – when the atmosphere gets a bit more earnest again and Castiel catches Dean glancing at him with an intense expression on his features more than once.

“What is it?” Castiel prods eventually.

Dean lowers his gaze. “Nothing,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “I've just been thinking …”

When he trails off, obviously unsure how to proceed, Castiel leans a little closer. “Thinking about what?”

Dean keeps silent and for a moment Castiel is convinced he won't answer. But just when he's on the verge on reassuring him to forget he ever asked, Dean raises his head again and looks him straight into the eyes.

“I'm just wondering when this all started, y'know?” he says. “If I've been the biggest idiot in the history of mankind and missed like a million obvious signs in the last few months.”

Castiel can't help an easy smile. The feeling is surely relatable.

“Don't worry,” he waves him off. “I've been told by several sources that I have been completely blind about this matter myself. We're certainly in on this together.”

Dean lets out a breathy laugh. “That's good to know.”

Castiel can't help reaching across the table and giving Dean's hand a reassuring squeeze. “How it all started?” He finds himself smirking at the memory. “I'm actually not so sure you want to know.”

Dean furrows his brows. “What? No, of course I wanna know!”

Well, so be it.

“I may have had a fleeting thought here and there in the last couple of months since our reunion,” Castiel confesses. “But nothing really stuck around. I think I didn't really understand it at the time and immediately dismissed it.”

Dean assesses him carefully. “Then what changed?”

Castiel is unable to suppress a grin as he replies, “It was the moment I walked in on you in the bathroom.”

As expected Dean reacts hilariously to that revelation. At first his eyes go wide, surprise covering all his features, before eventually a beautiful blush creeps up his neck and settles in his cheeks.

“Um – you –?”

Castiel snickers. “Yes.”

Dean licks his lips, clearly both flustered and amused by the whole thing. “So you glanced at my naked ass and realized you wanted a piece of that?”

He's definitely joking, trying to lighten the mood and particularly calm himself, but there is also an apparent note of curiosity in his tone. The whole time he probably attempted to forget the incident and most likely prayed to whoever might have listened that he would never have to speak about it again. But now, offered with this new information, he can't help feeling intrigued by Castiel's point of view on that matter.

“At first let me clarify that this isn't solely sexual,” Castiel states, gesturing between the two of them. “My words might come across as superficial and objectifying, but I assure you it's not what I'm saying here. You know that, right?”

Dean's expression softens at that. “Yeah, I know.”

Not even a waver of doubt in his voice. Not a millisecond of hesitation.

He simply knows.

And for a second there Castiel honestly contemplates just to lean over and kiss Dean for the rest of the evening. It definitely sounds like a pleasant use of their time.

But then he reminds himself to get this off his chest first. To come clean and answer Dean's question how all of this began. Dean certainly deserves to learn the whole story.

“When I walked in on you like that I felt a _pull_ ,” Castiel tries to explain. “I suddenly felt so incredibly drawn towards you I actually had to mentally restrain myself from touching you. In my head I was chiding myself like I was a little kid about to do something naughty.” He lowers his gaze. “I never experienced something like this before. I didn't know what to do about it and finally decided to just focus on your injured toe and pull myself together somehow.”

It definitely had been a lot of work, Castiel remembers.

“As you probably recall I got through the situation without embarrassing myself too much,” he continues. “But of course it got me thinking. If I had felt something similar before and never really acknowledged it for what it was. If this had been going on for a while and I just turned a blind eye to it …”

For a moment Castiel considers telling Dean that this might have been very well the first time he experienced true and genuine sexual attraction. That's it been mind-blowing for him in its own special way.

But in the end he keeps it for himself. That's a topic for another time.

“I called Claire and asked for some advice,” Castiel says. “And she basically told me, without any sugarcoating, that I'm an oblivious idiot.”

Dean chuckles at that and Castiel can't help wondering whether he heard something similar from the people closest to him at some point too.

“Of course people had told me that before,” Castiel admits. “Meg, for instance, has been very vocal about it. But at the time I figured they were just too hung up on that interview. That they got too invested in a story about an old childhood crush like it was the present and not the past.”

Dean huffs in response. He can surely relate to that, considering all the media attention he saw himself confronted with after the interview.

“So you're saying seeing my naked ass got you thinking that people might've been right all along?” Dean wonders, amusement in his tone. Whatever he expected Castiel to reply to his original question, on his own he probably wouldn't have made that connection anytime soon.

“Well, if you want to put it like that …” Castiel smirks. “Though, to be fair, I actually didn't really catch a glimpse of your ass. After all, you were way too busy showing me everything full frontal –”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean cuts in with a dismissive hand gesture, his ears turning red. “I remember that, thank you very much.”

Castiel laughs, feeling quite elated that he's finally able to talk with Dean about it. As though a weight has been lifted from his shoulders he didn't even notice before.

“What about you?” Castiel asks eventually, the question having been burning on his tongue basically since Dean pulled him into that spectacular (and disgusting) pond kiss. “Do you remember –?”

“When I first realized, um, all this?” Dean finishes for him, pointing between them. “Uh, to be perfectly honest, I dunno, man.”

He tips his head from one side to the other, mulling this over very carefully.

“I mean, of course I remember the time from when we were neighbors,” Dean tells him. “I think there wasn't a specific moment or anything, some day I just _knew_. Freaked out about it quite a bit, with you being a guy and all that – at least I got myself into some frenzies when I was in my bed late at night, all alone. When I was with you, however, everything made sense and it didn't seem like such a big of a deal all of a sudden.”

Castiel offers him a soothing smile. “I'm sorry you had a tough time with it …”

Dean instantly shrugs it off. “It wasn't _that_ tough. I guess you made it pretty easy in the end.”

Castiel feels glad to hear that. The thought of Dean dealing with such a crisis all on his own, without anyone to hold his hand and get him through it, definitely isn't a nice one. So it's good to know Castiel was able to help him in a way, even if he didn't exactly realize it at the time.

“And now …?” Dean wrinkles his forehead as he revisits everything they've been through the last couple of months. “I can't say, I'm sorry. Maybe Sammy was right and all my teenage feelings never really went away in the first place – not completely, at least –”

The thought of Dean feeling for him this way for over twenty years is both thrilling and also a little bit scary, Castiel has to admit. It's certainly _a lot_.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to freak you out,” Dean hastily adds, pulling a face as he's obviously reading Castiel's mind with ease. “I just –”

“No please, it's alright,” Castiel assures him. “It's just a little surreal that anyone could feel that way for me. I'm just me, after all –”

“What are you talking about? You're amazing!” Dean states with emphasis, clearly offended on Castiel's behalf. “You're kind and hilarious and really fucking hot – basically the whole package. As I told you before many people have been crushing on you since a damned long time and there is definitely a reason for that.”

Castiel can't help a blush due to the conviction in Dean's voice. Nobody has ever talked about him before in that way. At least not right to his face.

And so he decides that Dean deserves to know when he announces, “I think back when we were neighbors I might have had some sort of crush on you as well.”

This information clearly takes Dean by surprise. “You did?”

“I didn't classify it back then as anything else than platonic feelings,” Castiel confesses. “I easily acknowledged that you were my favorite person to be with at the time. I felt immensely better with you around. And my world turned utterly miserable when you had to move away.”

Dean nods in agreement at that.

“It's only been recently, with that interview and our reunion and everything … I started to wonder about my own feelings from that time,” Castiel admits. “You know better than anyone else that I'm pretty oblivious about these sorts of things. Back when we were teenagers I didn't even consider there might be something more there. At least not with nobody around to point it out to me in great detail.” Like Meg and Claire have been doing for the last few months. “But thinking back to these days now –”

He trails off again, not really sure how to phrase it properly. The last two decades he tried not to think too much about that time, the pain of losing Dean even too fresh after all these years, and now it's kind of difficult to grasp his feelings from back then. He remembers enjoying Dean's company very much, more than anyone else' before, but did he ever end up hypnotized by Dean's entire being? Did he look at Dean's lips and ask himself what it would feel like to kiss him? To hold him in his arms and never let go?

“So if I would've in all my awkward teenage glory asked you to be my boyfriend, you would've said yes?” Dean teases with a chuckle.

Castiel tilts his head. “I would have at least considered it.”

Dean laughs. “Damn, you're quite the romantic, Cas.”

“It's the truth.”

“I know, buddy. I know.”

They both fall silent again after that, but it's not an awkward one by any means. They just sit side by side, enjoying the quiet moment as they allow themselves some time to let everything settle. In a way it's surprisingly nice.

“So, how about the rest of the evening?” Dean eventually picks up his voice again. “I didn't have time to rent a movie theater or anything, but we can totally watch a BluRay or whatever. Not exactly fancy, I know, but I figured it might be nice …”

Castiel is sure it would have been. But right now he has something else in mind.

“I would very much like for this date to end,” he decides. “Please take me to my room.”

Dean's face falls. “… oh.”

Castiel rolls his eyes rather forcefully. “Don't be disappointed. This is all _your_ fault after all.”

Dean frowns, apparently too slow to catch up on things.

Castiel merely growls before he takes Dean's hand and pulls him with him into the direction of the staircase. “You infuriating man!” he hisses. “I had every intention to stay strong and get through the whole evening, but then you had _the audacity_ to cook the most wonderful meal and be all open about your feelings. And _oh my God_ , the guitar and the singing! How is someone supposed to resist?”

Dean stumbles up the stairs right behind Castiel, almost losing his balance more than once, but still determined to keep up.

And Castiel keeps going, like a man on a mission. Only fixed on his target because nothing else matters at this point.

He comes to a screeching halt right in front of his room, stopping so abruptly Dean nearly bumps into him.

“Okay, here we are,” Castiel announces, completely unnecessary. “You brought me to my door like a proper gentleman. This is the part where you kiss me goodnight, right?”

The corners of Dean's mouth tug upwards. “Oooh, so that's what you're after?”

Castiel huffs. “Yes, of course. What else?”

Dean laughs and opens his mouth, most likely ready for a witty retort, but Castiel doesn't leave him any chance to even get a word in. Instead he grabs the man by the collar of his shirt and pulls him in for a kiss. Soft and sweet and chaste, just like a kiss after a first date is supposed to be.

Dean smiles against his lips. “So I guess the date didn't totally suck, huh?”

“To be perfectly honest, we could've ended up sitting on the floor of your tiny guest bathroom and eating some ramen out of boxes and it still would have been great,” Castiel makes himself clear. “I'm not high maintenance.”

Dean snorts. “And you're telling me this _now_?”

Castiel runs his fingers through Dean's hair, gently playing with a few strands. He loves how the other man always leans into the touch, seeking for more.

“Either way,” Castiel says after a moment of comfortable silence, “this was the best date I've ever had. Nobody has ever done something like this for me before.”

Dean looks both proud and bashful about that statement. “Well, um, only the best for you.”

Castiel thinks about the delicious meal and their lively banter, he thinks about Dean radiating so much energy and beauty when he sang and played his guitar, he thinks about how Dean kept his musical talent a secret on purpose so he would be able to surprise Castiel with this one day …

And so Castiel dives in for another kiss because he can't keep himself back any longer.

Dean makes a surprised noise at first, that stupid man apparently completely unprepared for Castiel reacting in such a manner. But when Castiel sighs softly and pulls him closer, Dean gets in with the program quickly. They get lost in each other and before Castiel even knows what is happening he finds himself pressing Dean against the nearest wall. The man makes a wonderful sound in the back of his throat at that, clearly more than pleased with that development, and Castiel feels his senses getting fuzzy rather fast.

So in the end he has to pull back a little before he would do something reckless like climb Dean like a tree right here in the hallway.

“Um, movie?” he croaks, his voice almost unrecognizable to himself.

Dean rests his forehead against Castiel's and has to take a few quick breaths to draw enough oxygen back into his lungs. “… yeah, alright …”

Castiel glances at Dean's bedroom door, as unsubtle as possible. “You've got a TV in your room, haven't you?”

Dean raises his brows in surprise. “Uh, yeah?” he admits, a little hesitantly. “I barely use it or anything … but it's there –”

Castiel beams. “Great,” he announces. “Because for the last few days I have been trying to get some more cuddles in your bed out of you, but you turned out to be quite dense on that subject.”

Dean blinks at him, dumbfounded. “Huh?”

Castiel lifts his eyebrow in a pointed way and waits for the other man to catch up on things. And it's eventually quite entertaining to watch the realization slowly dawning on Dean's features.

“Oh shit,” he mumbles, his eyes growing wide. “All the times you mentioned Reginald shuffling underneath your window …”

“I was hoping you would invite me into your bed again, yes,” Castiel confirms with a chuckle. “I fairly enjoyed it the first time around and I wouldn't have minded more cuddles. But you obnoxious gentleman only proposed to switch rooms –”

Dean groans and squeezes his eyes shut for a second. “I'm an idiot, _damn_.”

Castiel laughs at that while he cards his fingers through Dean's hair yet again, reveling in the sensation. “It's okay, you're cute. I forgive you.”

Dean mock-pouts at him before quickly surging forward to steal himself a chaste kiss. “Bastard,” he says, powerful affection radiating in his voice.

Castiel merely grins in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just a sweet little something for the end of the year 💕
> 
> In the next chapter you'll get all the cuddles and some serious talk about important stuff!  
> Until then, my friends!
> 
> And I wish you all a happy new year 💖🥂


	39. Sleeping Arrangements

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, surprise, my friends :D
> 
> Considering the fact that I made huge progress with this fic and are currently sitting on several completed/nearly-completed chapters and I can't wait to share them with all of you I figured we could just go back to our weekly update schedule, what do you say? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Of course I'll take every liberty to change it back to biweekly or, as mentioned last time, go into hiatus if I need to at some point, but for now I'm brimming with energy and I want to get this show on the road again! And since I'm especially excited to bring this specific chapter to you I just thought “What the hell, why not?” ;D
> 
> So yeah, I hope you have fun!
> 
> -

Dean thought it would be awkward to climb into bed with Cas.

Granted, technically it's not their first round, but the last time Dean ended up almost humping the guy and then toppling out of the bed like a fool, so it seriously doesn't count in the grand schemes of things. He actually didn't even have any opportunity to comprehend what was happening before it was all over anyway.

So it feels new and exciting as he walks back into his room in sweatpants and shirt and finds Cas already sitting on the bed, propped up and fumbling with the TV remote. It's something he dreamed about from time to time and never believed to ever come true.

And now here they are.

Dean hesitates at the doorway at first, just studying Cas from afar. He looks like he belongs there, right in Dean's bed, wrapped in comfortable sleeping clothes and his hair is disarray. Dean's pretty sure it could never become more domestic than this and his heart soars.

Before he gets the chance to talk himself into a stupid and unnecessary frenzy, though, Dean forces himself to spur into action and not to overthink things. Yes, he will be sharing a bed with Cas. Yes, there will be physical contact. Quite a lot of it, actually, according to Cas. And even though they haven't really discussed it yet it's fair to assume that Cas intends to spend the entire night, not just a few hours of movie watching.

It _is_ a big deal, Dean knows that. But it's also nothing to freak out about.

And so he takes one deep breath and dives underneath the covers, right next to Cas.

Cas shoots him a soft smile, all calm and relaxed, like this is an everyday affair, and seeing him like that instantly puts Dean at ease, too. He scoots closer right away, knowing only too well that distance isn't what both of them want, and feels the corners of his mouth tugging upwards when Cas meets him halfway, plastering his whole body against Dean's side as if he can't allow even an inch of space between them.

Dean wraps his arm around his back on pure instinct and just hopes that his heart isn't beating too loudly in Cas' ears.

“So, what movie do we want to watch?” Cas asks, like that's normal, like that's the most important thing to talk about right now. And considering the fact that a black screen is staring back at them, waiting impatiently for an answer, maybe it really is.

After some bickering and Dean resolutely refusing to watch any of his own movies (because it's weird, alright?) they settle on _Blade Runner_ and make themselves comfortable.

It's warm and soft and at point limbs starts to get intertwined underneath the blanket, making it hard to determine where one of them ends and the other one starts. Dean smiles happily to himself and for the rest of the movie neither of them moves. And after _Blade Runner_ is over they switch to _The Fifth Element_ since Cas is lured in by the colorful atmosphere.

So they stay this way for a long while and even though Dean feels his eyelids getting heavier over the course of the evening he refuses to fall asleep. He wants to experience every single second on full alert.

“Are we actually still on our first date or does this count as the second one?” Cas wonders just when the end credits roll over the screen.

Dean snorts a laugh at that. “No idea, dude.”

He couldn't care less anyway. He declared those dating rules utterly stupid a long time ago and he certainly has no intention to apply them to his relationship with Cas. They're way beyond that.

“Doesn't matter,” he mumbles, shifting down a little to rest his head on Cas'. “Counting is overrated.”

Cas makes a humming noise and keeps silent for a moment while Dean stares at the list of all the costume designers rolling over his TV and wonders whether he should suggest another movie for them to watch or whether they should finally go to sleep. In the same bed.

“So this means we're officially dating?” Cas asks eventually.

Dean's heart jumps excitedly at that. “Yeah, I guess,” he mutters, somehow managing to sound almost casual about it even though he feels like screaming.

Cas hums in thought, for a moment staying silent as he obviously mulls this over very carefully. In the end he turns his head into an angle that appears highly uncomfortable, but allows him to meet Dean's eyes.

“Well, I guess worse things have happened to me before,” he teases.

Dean lets out a breathy laugh. “Thanks, dude, I really appreciate that.”

“You're welcome.”

And then Cas smiles, all dorky and joyful, and Dean can't do anything else but kiss it off his stupid face.

  
  


\---

  
  


It's about 4 AM when Dean suddenly wakes up.

At first he has no clue what jerked him out of his slumber, but just a second later he registers Cas right next to him shuffling, his eyes wide open as he stares at the ceiling. Despite the sparse moonlight Dean notices right away that he seems deeply in thought, like he's mulling something very important over in his head.

“You okay?” Dean mumbles, still quite drowsy, but not at all inclined to simply ignore it and go back to sleep. There is clearly something on Cas' mind, perhaps he's even starting to second guess everything that happened between them in the last few hours, and Dean seriously needs to be here for this, one way or another.

Cas sighs, apparently not at all surprised by the sudden sound of Dean's voice. “I'm just thinking …”

Dean rubs his eyes and tries to shake himself a little more awake. “'bout what?”

Cas licks his bottom lip and keeps on studying the ceiling like it's the most interesting thing he's ever seen. “The rational part of myself tells me not to rush into this,” he says. “That it's way too early to talk about this, that I should wait until we're both ready. I'm afraid it could make things between us rather awkward again.”

Dean furrows his brows and wonders if his brain is still just too tired to follow the guy's chain of thoughts or if Cas is honestly that cryptic right now.

“Then again, I'm not certain what you're expecting,” Cas points out. “After all, it's not like we're strangers and have to get to know each other first. We're already sharing a bed, after all. It's not too far-fetched to assume … I mean, the implications alone …”

Dean frowns, officially lost. “What are you talking about?”

Cas turns his head.

Looks him straight into the eyes.

And asks, absolutely bluntly, “What are your feelings on sex?”

For a long minute it feels like Dean's brain just stopped working.

Adamant to refuse any kind of service.

Dean simply blinks like an idiot and gapes at Cas for what feels like years and wonders once again whether he's dreaming or not. Is this just the prologue to one of his erotic dreams, albeit a very weird one? Is that all there is?

“Dean?” Cas asks after a while, concern swinging in his tone. “Are you alright?”

Is he alright?

_Is he_?

Even though the prospect of anything sexual with Cas shouldn't actually surprise him ( _DUH_ ) he feels utterly unprepared for this. Nobody taught him beforehand how to deal with such a situation and it's certainly biting him in the ass now.

Cas, meanwhile, begins to look all kinds of guilty. “It's too early to talk about this, isn't it? I apologize.”

Part of Dean would actually be elated at the idea of dropping the subject altogether right now and go back to sleep. It sounds rather heavenly to drift off into dreamland again and allow himself some time to process all of this before coming up with an answer.

But a much louder part of himself insists not to evade the topic. It's obviously important to Cas, is even keeping him awake at night, and Dean couldn't live with himself to force the poor bastard to bottle it up and let it slowly eat him from the inside.

So Dean takes a deep breath and decides then and there that they're both adults, right? They can discuss adult subjects without blushing like teenagers or going into cardiac arrest.

_Right_?

“Um … you … sex?” Dean fumbles very inelegantly. “You, um, you wanna know …?”

Cas' expression softens, apparently appreciating Dean's effort to go through with this. “Yes, I would like to know your feelings on sex. If it's not too much to ask at this point.”

He's still offering Dean an out. A chance to talk about it at a later point.

But now they're here and Dean is fairly sure he won't act any more graceful in a week or even a month from now anyway.

“My – my feelings …?” He can't help squirming a little. “Um, in general?”

Cas nods. “Yes.”

Dean blinks, not really certain what Cas would like to hear from him. “Well, I guess – um, I like it?”

“Would you like to have sex with me?” Cas asks straightforward. “Well, not now, but at some point?”

_Damn_.

As blunt as ever.

“Uuuuhhh, I – I mean –” Dean stutters. “Yeah, I guess?”

He knows it's not the ringing endorsement Cas had been hoping for, but right now he can't muster anything more. Because if he would tell the guy how he _really_ feels – yeah, in the best case scenario Cas would just get flustered like crazy, in the worst case he would simply bolt and retreat back to his room.

So yeah, instead of actually screaming into the guy's face, _“Oh my God, YES, of course I wanna have sex with you, anything you want, just say the word and I'll rip my clothes off, and yeah, I might end up with a heart attack at some point because I'm pretty sure it'll be too much, but it'll be worth it anyway, take me whenever!”_ – instead of that Dean decides to keep it safe and tame his enthusiasm.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable,” Cas apologizes right away. “I just … it's been on a mind a lot lately.”

Dean swallows and tries not to get too excited about it.

“Because you have to know … well, in our conversations I never really mentioned it before …” Cas lowers his gaze and Dean can't help perking up. He feels like this is not going into the direction he had anticipated.

And he's starting to become a bit worried as he watches the expression on Cas' face.

“Sex, um, sex has never been a big part of my life,” Cas explains. “Not even remotely, if I'm being honest. Since my divorce I didn't even waste a single thought on it …”

Dean lifts an eyebrow in surprise. “You hadn't had sex in like twelve years?”

“Even longer,” Cas admits with a shrug. “Daphne and I, we didn't really care about it. I can't even tell you the last time we were intimate. I think it might have been sometime before Claire came to us.”

Dean stares at him.

Okay, wow.

This talk is _definitely_ going into a completely different direction than he expected.

Dean waits for a moment longer, patiently wondering whether Cas might be eager to add something to this statement. But he remains motionless, the ceiling apparently the most fascinating thing he's ever seen.

And so Dean licks his lips and tries to calculate how to approach this subject. It's clearly an important issue for Cas – at least important enough to keep him from sleeping in the middle of the night – and Dean surely wouldn't do either of them a favor if he would start to stumble around like a clumsy oaf right now.

“So …” he eventually picks up his voice again. “So you're not … you're not interested in sex?”

He tries to let his voice sound neutral, no judgment, no emotion. Just a simple, little talk.

Cas takes a deep breath at that. “Of course I've done my research,” he emphasizes. “And for a long while I felt quite comfortable in the asexual spectrum. It seemed to fit perfectly and I was content to identify with it.”

Dean lifts his eyebrow, feeling a _but_ coming his way.

“And then I walked in on you in the bathroom and I _felt_ –” Cas squints his eyes, clearly searching for the right words in his mind. “I guess I felt sexual attraction. Maybe even for the very first time. At least I never sensed something so – so, um, y'know –”

He makes a vague hand gesture, apparently adorably embarrassed.

And Dean … well, it takes all his willpower not to gasp in surprise at that. He surely didn't expect to hear something like that from his best friend ever.

“So I'm not really sure anymore,” Cas continues. “About my sexuality and how I feel –”

Dean pauses for a minute longer, allowing Cas the time to let everything settle in, before he eventually rolls around and faces him. He still keeps some distance to not overwhelm the poor guy when he's currently pouring his heart out, but Dean figures it important to look straight at him.

“Y'know, I'm not an expert either,” Dean admits. “But my fans were always eager to educate me in this kind of stuff. And I guess in the end you don't need a name or label if you don't want to. You might see yourself as ace or maybe demi –”

Cas turns his head around. “Demi?”

Dean can't help a little smile. It looks like Cas stopped his research as soon as he found a niche he felt homey in and never spread further into the depth of it all.

“Don't quote me on this 'coz it's late at night and I'm tired as hell –” Dean warns right away, “but I think it belongs to the whole ace spectrum as well, to a certain degree. It means you only feel sexual attraction to people you have a close connection with.”

Cas blinks slowly, obviously intrigued by the description.

“Clearly it's doesn't say you feel that way about _every single_ being you've got a bond with,” Dean hurries to clarify. “Just as I don't go gaga over everyone in the whole freaking universe only because I'm bi – I mean, that would be exhausting as hell –”

Cas chuckles. “I know what you mean, Dean.”

Dean shrugs his shoulders. “I'm just saying, there is more out there. You're not the only one.”

  
  


\---

  
  


Castiel actually didn't intend to bring this whole issue so early into their new intimate relationship.

And he surely had no desire to do so right in the middle of the night, forcing them both to be wide awake when they should just sleep peacefully, preferably all their limbs linked beyond recognition with one another.

But at some point Castiel found himself with his eyes open and his mind running and he couldn't do anything about it. The subject churned in his head, making him dizzy and way to alert to simply ignore it and go back to sleep.

He feels bad for dragging Dean into this. But at the same time he's also relieved because this topic involves him as well – in a rather important manner, naturally – and it's a bit easier to talk about it in a semi-dark room, with the shadows right there to hide within them if you need to.

He never really had to think about something like this before. His only other meaningful relationship was with Daphne and with her he had known right away where they stood. Sex never had been a big issue and he didn't have to waste any time agonizing over it. But now, with Dean, everything is new and also a little scary and having this huge question hanging in the air between them, in some sort of limbo, made Castiel feel uneasy.

Not only for himself, but for Dean as well. He needs the man to know what he's dealing with, what he's up against. Castiel is quite aware that Dean enjoys sexual activities and it wouldn't be fair to keep this issue for himself if they're about to enter this new stage of their relationship.

So yes, in the end Castiel couldn't hold it back anymore.

Even though he feels deeply sorry they have discuss this topic at 4 AM in the morning.

Dean, thankfully, doesn't seem to mind, though. His gaze is open and understanding, ready to hear what Castiel has to say.

Also now he's studying the other man quietly for a while, his expression calculating. And in the end he asks, almost in a whisper, “Do you _want_ to have sex?”

Castiel blinks at the question. “Right now?”

Dean laughs softly. “No, not right now. I'm talking about, I dunno, tomorrow, next week, next month. Someday.” When Castiel falls silent after that, not exactly sure how to answer that, Dean hastily adds, “I'm just saying, lots of ace folks are not especially fond of sex or they don't give much of a damn about it either way. I … well, I guess I only want you to know that I'm not expecting anything.”

Castiel frowns. “Expecting?”

Dean shrugs, obviously trying to look as nonchalant as possible. “Yeah, I mean – if you don't wanna have sex, then we don't have sex.”

Castiel feels something very warm spreading through his chest as he watches this unfairly beautiful man right next to him. “Dean …”

“Yeah, I know, it's probably too early to even _think_ about the entire thing, one way or another …” Dean huffs at himself. “I mean, we're basically just had our first date if you wanna get technical about it. And I don't wanna freak you out and spring this on you like that – and yeah, sorry, maybe I'm a dumbass about it and I should just shut up before you start to run for the hills – but I guess I wanted you to know that I care about you a lot and stuff …”

He trails off, apparently uncertain how to continue without making a fool of himself.

Meanwhile, Castiel brushes his fingers through Dean's hair and smiles softly at him. “So if I would decide to never have sex again, you would be okay with that?”

“First of all, that is _your_ decision, not mine,” Dean points out. “What I think about that shouldn't matter. This is only about you and what you feel happy with.” He leans tentatively into Castiel's touch. “I'm just saying, I will be here, no matter what you decide.”

“But you enjoy sex.”

“I do, yes,” Dean agrees easily. “But I enjoy your company more.”

Castiel feels like his heart is on the verge of bursting out of his ribcage. Here is Dean, offering to renounce something important in his life for Castiel's sake. To push it aside as though it never meant anything to him. He acts like it's not a big deal and perhaps it even isn't, in the grand scheme of things, but in Castiel's book it's still huge.

He can't help leaning forward and kissing Dean gently, reveling in the feeling of closeness.

“My my, Mr. Winchester, how sweet and generous you are,” Castiel teases. “And I really appreciate your openness to all of this.”

Dean shoots him a little smile. “Um, you're welcome?”

“And I assure you I will take it into account,” Castiel promises. “But considering the fact that I liked sex in the past before and I'm _very_ confident I would enjoy it with you even more, there is nothing to worry about.”

“I wasn't worried –” Dean is quick to make himself clear.

“We just should allow ourselves to take the time we need,” Castiel says. “Both of us.”

Dean looks at him for a long minute and then he nods. “That sounds good.”

And so, by mutual silent agreement, this is the end of it. At least for the time being. They smile at one another one last time and then melt into each others' arms again. Castiel breathes a sigh of relief as he buries his face into Dean's chest and can't help feeling like a heavy weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

Therefore, this time around, he has no trouble whatsoever to fall asleep once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I mentioned last time, they had some important things to discuss. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it :)
> 
> See you next week again, with more Destiel fluffiness and a certain brother showing his face around again ;)


	40. Say Hi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -
> 
> Hey, my friends!
> 
> Another Tuesday, another chapter for you :D
> 
> I hope you have fun!
> 
> -

It's still way too early when Dean wakes up again.

He grumbles like a bear just jerked awake from hibernation and glares with bleary eyes at the person at the end of the bed who just stumbled over Dean's house shoes and made way too much noise in the process.

“ _Dude_ ,” he growls, “'m asleep …”

Cas pulls a guilty face. “I'm sorry, Dean. I didn't mean to wake you up.”

The corners of Dean's mouth droop as he sees Cas out of bed. This is just _wrong_.

“Why're you up?” he mumbles. “Come back, it's cold …”

The day actually already has the makings of another hot summer experience, but Dean seriously doesn't like Cas _over there_ when he should be _right here_ , next to him.

“I wanted to go on a quick run before the temperatures will get too uncomfortable for that,” Cas explains, infuriatingly calm.

Dean pouts at that. “You're crazy, man …”

“I can't stay in bed any longer,” Cas states. “I've got too much pent-up energy.”

Dean scoffs. “That's from all the lack of sex.”

If he would've been a bit more awake he most likely would have immediately frozen at that comment and scolded himself for being so insensitive. Or he probably wouldn't have been stupid enough to say anything remotely like that to begin with.

But as it is Dean is sleepy and his mouth always runs away from him in such a state.

Thankfully, though, Cas reacts with an amused laugh. “You're probably right. I've never made the connection before, but it makes a lot of sense.” He grins way too brightly for such an ungodly hour. “What would I do without you?”

Dean shoots him a sleepy glare, mumbles “… you're an asshole” and drifts off back to sleep before Cas is even finished laughing.

When he eventually wakes up next it's not to a body stomping through his room like a clumsy oaf but to his phone beside him on the nightstand ringing rather insistingly. Dean grumbles into his pillow and spends the first few seconds scowling at the annoying device in the most impressive manner imaginable. He considers to ignore it and let whoever is on the other end of the line rot in hell for their absolute audacity to call before 9 AM on his day off, but in the end his instinct wins out to see for himself. Going back to sleep without even checking the caller ID would be completely impossible for him one way or another anyway.

So he blindly picks up the phone and answers the request. And before he's even able to catch up on the fact that he just accepted a video call suddenly his brother's ugly visage takes over his poor phone's screen.

“Dean,” Sam exclaims cheerfully, sounding like a happy puppy on some really good drugs. “Good morning.”

Dean narrows his eyes and bemoans the sad truth that looks can't kill yet. “You got a death wish, bitch?” he hisses, baring his teeth in a hopefully threatening manner.

Sam, the bastard, only rolls his eyes, as though Dean is just a ridiculous drama queen making a fuss over nothing. “Oh, don't get your panties in a twist. It's not _that_ early in the morning.”

Dean shakes his head, disbelief running through his veins full force. “Dude, _seriously_?”

The muscles in Sam's face do some random twitches as he quickly glances out of frame, probably properly checking the time. And despite his sluggishness Dean notices a very brief flicker of surprise flashing over his features, indicating that he indeed thought it to be later than it actually is.

“Well, it's business hours,” Sam tries to defend himself nonetheless.

Dean merely grunts and for a second considers flinging the phone far away from himself and just going back to sleep. Sam certainly doesn't deserve any attention for being unable to read the right time.

But then again, Sam doesn't call for nothing and he seems weirdly anxious, come to think of it, so Dean decides to allow it for a change.

He'll make up for it by dialing the jackass sometime late at night very soon and startle him out of his dreams, just for the fun of it.

“Okay, fine, I'm _sorry_ ,” Sam says, not sounding apologetic at all. Stretching out the word like it doesn't have any meaning whatsoever. “I can call you back later so you've got the chance to catch up on your beauty sleep –”

“Fuck you.”

“– because looking at you now I realize you _seriously_ need that time –”

Dean curses underneath his breath and ignores all the taunting remarks with practiced ease. After all, his brain functions are way too low to react in the appropriate manner anyway, so why bother listening to Sam being a bitchy bitch and thinking himself funny, even though he's clearly not?

Dean just deems Sam's statement with an eye roll before he gracelessly climbs out of bed and trips across the room, only the prospect of caffeine keeping him on his feet at this point. Naturally he makes a big show of grumbling underneath his breath as he heads down the stairs for the kitchen.

As soon as he enters the room, however, he can't help feeling a smile tugging at his lips when he notices the smell of coffee in the air. Cas obviously prepared a pot before heading out for his suicidal jog and that suddenly seems so stupidly domestic to Dean he doesn't even know what to do with it.

Dean takes a deep breath and tries to keep the overflowing emotions on his face to a minimum as he props up his phone on the kitchen counter against the salt and pepper shakers and quickly gets himself a cup of the dark, lifesaving liquid. Cas likes it extra strong, as Dean had noticed since they've been here, and at first it needed some getting used to it, but after a couple of day of adjustment he actually has to admit to himself that he kinda enjoys it. He still puts a bit cream inside because he'd cry otherwise, but overall it honestly gave him a much needed kick every morning so far.

“Okay, hit me,” he finally picks up his voice again after almost the entire mug is empty and he's starting to feel his brain slowly waking up. “Why did you decide to call me at this unchristian hour?”

Sam scoffs. “It's not unchristian –”

Dean hastily waves him off before he can get too technical about it. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just tell me what got your panties in a twist. Aren't you at work right now?”

Sam leans back a little, giving Dean a vague glimpse of a bookshelf behind him which heknows for a fact stands in Sam's office, all big and proud and nerdy looking.

“I got a few minutes to spare,” Sam explains with a shrug.

Dean takes another sip of his coffee. “For what? Just saying hello to your favorite brother?”

“Yep,” Sam agrees, a little too quickly for Dean's liking. “And also …”

Now he looks somewhat nervous again and Dean begins to wonder what he's missing right now.

“It's about next weekend,” Sam adds. “When you're coming over with Cas.”

Since Cas is about to fly back to Kansas at some point (a fact Dean refuses to think about for now) it was naturally more convenient to book a flight going out from the Albany airport this time around which is only about half an hour distance from Clarksville. They settled on Monday, giving him both the opportunity to be back home more or less the same time as his kids and also allowing him and Dean to spend the weekend at Sam's place first. Cas surely has been more than enthusiastic about the suggestion to finally be able to spend some time with Sam and Dean's actually seriously looking forward to their stay as well, even though it means saying goodbye to Cas again right after. He knows it will be hard, _especially_ now, with everything so new and exciting between them, but the prospect of having his brother at his side if it might get a bit too tough at some point certainly helps a lot.

“What about the weekend?” Dean wonders, suddenly feeling dread creeping up as he watches Sam fidgeting in his seat. “You're not canceling, are you?”

That would definitely be a low blow and Dean already notices his stomach plummeting at the mere idea.

Thankfully, though, Sam instantly shakes his head, rather vehemently. “No, no, don't worry, everything is settled. We're ready to go!”

Dean releases a breath of relief at that.

“Okay, then what is it?”

Sam grimaces and cocks his head from side to the other, like he's trying desperately to find the right words in that massive skull of his. “I was just wondering …” he begins tentatively. “I mean, yeah, it's about Cas and I know that and I can't wait to meet him again … but yeah, I was just wondering if you would mind Eileen joining us for dinner at some point or another? Saturday maybe?”

Dean blinks.

Blinks some more.

And then a sly grin spreads over his features.

“Eileen, huh?” he asks with a chuckle.

Sam huffs and is obviously utterly incapable of keeping a slight flush off his cheeks. “Yeah, _Eileen_ …”

Dean leans forward, more than intrigued now. “So you're getting serious? Decided to finally tell her who your brother is?”

Sam clears his throat. “She already knows, actually.”

Dean's eyes widen in surprise. Well, dammit, Sam _is_ serious about the girl.

“When did you tell her?”

Sam chews on his bottom lip and avoids Dean's gaze. “Last night.”

“How did she react?”

Sam pauses. And then he sighs. “She told me that I'm an idiot. That she had known the truth for weeks and was just waiting for me to say something. And then she broke into laughter and mocked me for the rest of the evening.”

Dean frowns. “How did she find out?”

Normally Sam is extra careful about these things, taking roughly a hundred precautions to see everything safe and sound. To hear him slipping up like that is highly unusual.

Sam groans. “Well, she is right, I _am_ an idiot,” he points out. “A few weeks ago she had some trouble with her computer at home and she needed to send some important emails. So I offered her my private laptop. The one I usually only keep in my study at home and never leaves that place _ever_. No clue why, but for some reason I simply gave it to her without a second thought. Just like that. As though that's a thing I do on a regular basis.”

Dean presses his lips tightly together, stifling a laugh. “And what happened?”

“Basically she opened the stupid thing and was immediately greeted by my screensaver,” Sam explains, sounding all kinds of defeated. “The picture we took on my last birthday. You, me and mom. Right there, for her to see. Hitting her directly in the face.”

Dean stays motionless for a long moment.

And then he bursts into laughter, loud and booming.

“Oh Sammy,” he snickers, gasping for breath. “You … you …”

The corners of Sam's mouth drop. “I can't even tell you how it happened. My brain stopped working in that moment or something …”

Dean keeps on laughing and teasing, even though he's pretty sure he can quite relate to Sam's situation. At least he has no doubt in his mind that he would've acted just the same with Cas, all dense and smitten, doing utterly dumb stuff because his brain cells simply die around the guy. Cas would only need to lock his ridiculously blue eyes with Dean's and Dean would instantly forget any basic brain functions in a matter of milliseconds.

So yeah, Sam's misery is quite relatable.

And Dean finds himself really thrilled that his baby brother obviously found someone who turns him into such a stupid mess.

“I'd say that Eileen is a keeper, huh?” Dean teases with the brightest grin on his face. “Can't wait to meet her.”

Sam looks like he can't wait either and soon enough they're discussing the upcoming weekend, making plans and meals schedules like some freaking adults, both keen on having lots of their loved ones under one roof again soon.

And it's in that moment when Dean suddenly notices movement at the doorway.

Cas.

Just back from his run, all sweaty and heavy breathing and dressed in ridiculously tight and ridiculously sexy clothing. Shorts shouldn't be that hot, but the way they wrap around Cas' murder thighs is more than enough to make every man weak.

“Cas,” Dean exclaims, trying desperately to sound foremost casual and carefree rather than tongue tied and unfairly turned on by the sight. “You made it back, I see. Anything new in the woods?”

Cas merely huffs. Brushes some strands out of his face.

And then he walks straight over to Dean, invades his personal space absolutely shamelessly and pulls him in for a kiss.

In the back of his mind Dean is way too aware of Sam sitting inside his phone and having a perfect view on this, but just a second later his senses are overwhelmed by everything _Cas_ and he stops giving a fuck about anything but the man plastered all over his front. Cas' lips are soft yet demanding and Dean actually whimpers when they find themselves deepening the kiss. Just for a brief moment, Cas pulls back a few inches right after, but it's still enough to make Dean almost lose his balance.

“Good morning,” Cas breathes against his mouth, a smug smile on his stupidly gorgeous features. “Again.”

Dean squeezes his eyes shut and tells himself over and over not to moan like a complete loser.

“Um … yeah,” he answers, pathetic and inelegant as he is in this guy's presence apparently. “Good, uh, good morning …”

Cas' grin widens, obviously very proud of himself for turning Dean into a pile of useless goo.

Bastard.

A bastard who, unfortunately, didn't even wait a single second to read the room.

_Dammit_.

This is not how he planned to break the news to his brother.

“Um …” Dean licks his lips, despite the situation unable not to chase the taste. “You – you wanna say hi to Sam, too?”

Cas frowns in confusion, clearly thrown off by the abrupt change of subject.

Dean, meanwhile, inclines his head to the side, gesturing at the propped-up phone on the kitchen counter. Cas follows the motion right away, his forehead wrinkled as he tries to figure out what Dean is telling him. The bewilderment on his features stays for a moment longer while he sweeps his gaze over the kitchen, but when his eyes finally settle on Sam's shell-shocked face staring directly back at him his entire body tenses up and he hastily takes a step back from Dean.

“Oh, Sam, hello,” he mumbles, clearly flustered by the unexpected surprise. “I – I didn't see you there.”

Sam opens and closes his mouth, not a single sound coming out of it.

Cas grimaces as he rubs the back of his neck bashfully.

And stays silent himself because apparently neither of them seems to know how to react to any of this.

For a painfully long moment everything appears strained and awkward and Dean is already on the verge of saying something, _anything_ , to defuse the situation, but then Cas turns toward him and murmurs, “I think I've gotta – uh, go shower.”

He gestures vaguely at his sweaty body, more for Sam's benefit than anyone else', and then quickly flees the room, with a rushed “bye, Sam” thrown into the air.

He's actually gone so fast that Dean just stares at the empty doorway and wonders if that really just happened.

But as he turns back towards Sam and sees his brother's eyes almost bulging out of their sockets he realizes, yep, that happened.

He sighs, very deeply, and waits for Sam's brain to come back online.

And he waits …

And waits …

And in the end, after what feels like an eternity, Sam goes, “ _Duuuuuuddeeee_ …”

Dean grimaces.

And seriously considers just hanging up the phone and hiding with Cas in bed again. At least it sounds quite preferable to staring at Sam's agape expression.

“Dude, _what the hell_?” Sam exclaims, flailing his arms wildly around as though he lost any control of his limbs somewhere along the way.

Dean, meanwhile, just pulls a face. “Sammy –”

“No, like seriously!” Sam cuts right in. “We've been talking for like twenty minutes and you didn't think to even _mention_ this? No, 'hey, Sam, by the way, Cas and I are an item now' –”

Dean huffs. “It basically just happened _yesterday_ , man. How about you give me some time to wrap my head around things first before I start to shout it from the rooftops, yeah?”

Sam studies him for a moment, apparently prepared to argue his case further and declare Dean's silence an injustice to humanity itself. But as Dean raises his brow in a very pointed manner and shoots him his patented _“don't come at me, Sammy”_ look Sam deflates instantly.

“Okay, fine,” he concedes. “You've got a point.”

“Thank you.” Dean nods. “I would've told you first anyway, by the way. Just so you know.”

A little smile flickers over Sam's features. “I know, you big sap.”

Dean rolls his eyes and decides not to deem that with an answer.

“And I'm happy to see you finally got your head out of your ass,” Sam adds cheerfully. “You look cute together. In the gross kind of way.”

Dean frowns, not really sure what to make of that. “Um, thanks? I guess?”

“So, what happened?” Sam leans closer to the screen, all intrigued now. “Did you confess your grand feelings? Or did Cas finally smack you over the head and make you realize what a dense idiot you are?”

Dean pouts hard at that. And hates the fact that he's basically right about the latter.

He considers keeping quiet about it, create some mysterious aura to cloud the painful truth, but in the end he finds himself strangely keen on sharing the story with his brother and before he even knows it he relays all the details. Cas' wooing and Dean's utter lack to notice it, the picnic, Cas' blunt confession, the bodyguard pictures, the arguing, the pond, the kiss – yeah, everything.

And Sam reacts to all of it by laughing so hard he almost drops off his super designer office chair. “Oh man, _Dean_ ,” he cackles, actual tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. “You're the epitome of a disaster bi, you know that, right?”

Dean scowls, folds his arms across his chest and reminds himself to scratch Sam out of his will. Because he deserves it.

“I hate you, man,” he growls.

Sam just waves him off, like it's not a big deal. “But I guess it fits you. You're both morons.”

Dean snorts. “Yeah, yeah …” Unfortunately he isn't exactly wrong. “Just – just keep it to yourself for a while, okay? Don't go running and tell Mom.”

Something akin to serious flashes over Sam's expression at that and he quickly straightens in his seat again. “Yeah, don't worry, those are not my news to share.”

Dean fidgets on the spot. “I mean, I _will_ talk to her,” he says. “But yeah, like I said, it's all pretty new and stuff …”

“Just don't tell her about Eileen and the screensaver and I won't tell her about you and Cas.”

Dean can't help a wide grin at the reminder. “Deal.”

They talk some more, mostly just teasing each other on their respective situations, before Sam eventually has to go back to work and they say their goodbyes.

And it doesn't take long for Cas to show up again in the kitchen, all freshly showered and very sheepish looking. “I'm sorry, about –” He gestures at Dean's phone still on the counter.

Dean chuckles. “It's fine, man. Sure, it's not how I imagined breaking the news to Sammy, but it's out there now.”

Cas sighs and heads straight for the coffee in Dean's hand, shamelessly ripping the mug out of Dean's grip and taking a big gulp. “Nevertheless, I should've been more careful. I heard talking, but I figured it was just the news on the radio or something –”

Dean stares at his former coffee and though he knows he's supposed to be annoyed about this he can't help feeling stupidly happy about all the easy familiarity. “Um, yeah …” he mumbles, his brain suddenly getting too preoccupied to remember what they were even talking about.

“But Sam – he is, uh, okay with all of this?” Cas asks, now sounding bashful again.

Dean blinks and forces his mind to get back on track. “Um, yeah, of course,” he responds right away. “He's thrilled, man. When we're gonna stay with him next weekend, he'll probably have lots of banners prepared and everything.”

Castiel smiles softly at that. “I'm really looking forward to seeing him again.”

Dean is only able to nod in agreement.

“Will we be taking the Impala?” Cas wonders after a moment of comfortable silence. “To Sam's, I mean.”

Dean frowns. “Um, yeah?”

Cas' grin widens at the news. “Very good. Because I recently realized I've actually never driven in it before.” He halts for a moment and hastily corrects, “ _Her_ , I mean.”

Dean, meanwhile, cocks his head. “What do you mean?”

Cas shrugs his shoulders. “Of course I've been in her presence a lot. But I've actually never sat down on the passenger's seat. I've never rode with her before.”

Dean crinkles his forehead in confusion. “No, that can't be –”

But as he allow himself to mull this over in his head for a second he suddenly comes to realize that damn, it might very well be true.

“Back when we were neighbors Baby was your father's car,” Cas explains easily. “And since we didn't visit the same school I didn't really have any opportunity to ride along. Not to mention the fact that the mall and movie theater were just two blocks away from our houses, so we had no need for cars the few times we went over there together.”

Yeah, Dean remembers that vividly. It would've absurd to hop into the Impala or any other car for such short a distance.

“And since we've been in contact – well, we didn't ride around with your car in Lawrence,” Cas continues. “And in New York City you used your other car to blend in.”

Yeah, Baby and the Big Apple seriously don't mix well.

“Damn, you're right,” Dean breathes. “You and Baby didn't really make acquaintance yet.”

Huh.

Well, they have to change that _at once_.

“Okay, that's unacceptable,” Dean decides. “And no way in hell are we gonna wait for that till the weekend at Sam's. It takes about twenty minutes to get there, that's honestly not enough time for you to fully appreciate Baby's true magnificence.” He scoffs at the mere idea. “So what do you say to a day trip sometime soon? Just you, me, Baby and the open road.”

Something in Cas' eyes lights up at the suggestion. “I might be amenable to that.”

Dean leans in and gives him a quick peck, tasting his own coffee on the guy's lips. “It's a date, sweetheart.”


	41. Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, my friends!
> 
> Unfortunately I have no speech prepared today, so I guess we have to do without for now 😆
> 
> Have fun with the chapter!
> 
> -

Unfortunately they can't set out right away because the weather decides to throw a wrench in their plans.

No matter how much Dean would enjoy going on a little road trip with Castiel and his Baby he's rather adamant that a black sky and pouring rain are not the perfect conditions for doing so. And since Castiel has no desire to die in a spectacular car crash in some ditch in the middle of nowhere he's quite inclined to agree with that.

So for the next few days they're mostly cooped up in the house and despite missing his extended morning runs Castiel has to admit it's actually not that bad. Very lovely, in fact, if he's being honest.

Just him and Dean and all the time in the world.

Curiously enough not much changed in their dynamic, further proving Claire's point that both Dean and Castiel practically have already been living in a relationship without even realizing it. Yes, there is a lot more kissing and touching and the occasional groping involved, but there is also a great amount of familiarity in their interactions with each other. They bicker about the most ridiculous things, they cook and bake together, they watch movies and cuddle up on the couch or Dean's bed. Hell, one time they even do laundry together.

Castiel is amazed by how normal it all feels. And yet at the same time so very new and enticing. Every time Dean touches him, even in a fleeting manner, he gets goosebumps and leans into the contact like a starved man. Whenever they kiss or simply get lost in each other Castiel feels both so strangely alive and like he's trapped in the most intense dream.

Sometimes he catches himself getting a little whiplash from all the back and forth, the domestic normality and the exciting adventure. He never really experienced something like this before and for a moment or two he actually considers being scared of it, of the magnitude of it all, but then Dean merely has to shoot him one of his dazzling smiles and every ounce of tension drains out of Castiel's muscles like it's never been there in the first place.

By day four Castiel decides for himself that the whole thing will just need some getting used to it. He always knew that what he has with Dean is a profound connection and that's seriously not something to take lightly and shrugs off. No, it's supposed to be strong and prominent and also somewhat terrifying from time to time.

Castiel can't really tell whether Dean shares the sentiment as well, at least in the grand scheme of things. He stays all smiles and jokes, truly like a man having a good time and not worrying about a care in the world. But once or twice Castiel noticed an odd expression flickering over his features, just for a brief second. Not long enough to have any opportunity to decipher it in great detail, but still leaving you with a feeling it might have been significant.

Castiel, however, doesn't poke at it. He knows it's important to be open in a relationship and communicate if there might be any concerns or doubts, but he's also well aware that pushing any issues isn't a healthy way to deal with stuff either. For now Castiel is positive that Dean will come to him if he feels it necessary and that is all that matters. Knowing that you can trust your partner with everything.

Castiel, at least, is more than sure that he is going to address the issue of his growing and confusing emotions at some point or another. And he knows Dean will listen to it patiently and give his input in the end. Right now Castiel has no idea what that might be, if Dean actually would be able to give some helpful advice, but the act of talking alone and getting it off his chest will probably feel very liberating, he assumes.

But Castiel hasn't reached that point yet. No, for now he's just more than happy to stay with Dean in their little bubble and enjoy their time together. Everything else can wait for another day.

  
  


\---

  
  


The first moment the weather clears up Dean is more than ready to head out.

He had already followed the forecast with great interest over the course of the week and as some tentative sunbeams fall through the window on the fifth day Dean grins brightly and jumps out of bed before Castiel even has a chance to grumble his contempt.

Dean is about as excited as a kid on Christmas morning and it's hard not to get infected by it, however. Castiel tries to remain grumpy when Dean practically drags him out of the bedroom by his feet and tries to infuse him with absurd amounts of coffee in an attempt to wake him up, but it's indeed tough to keep on pouting when Dean is bursting with giddiness and rambles on and on about the things he has planned for them.

In the end Castiel has to admit defeat and allows himself to be swept away by all the enthusiasm. So after a quick breakfast, an intense make-out session against the kitchen counter and a fast change of their clothes they grab a few things and walk outside.

“Okay, Cas, this is a grand moment,” Dean announces when he opens the garage's door, revealing the Impala inside. “You and Baby, getting acquainted for the very first time.”

Castiel snorts. “I already know her. For a long while, as you might remember.”

He feels a bit ridiculous using female pronouns for a car, but Dean has been insisting on it and Castiel isn't all too keen on yet another lecture on that subject.

“Oh no, Cas, you _don't_ know her,” Dean objects right away, scoffing like the mere idea is utterly absurd. “You've seen her, yes. You've been in her vicinity, granted. But you never _felt_ her. _Smelled_ her.”

Castiel lifts a brow. “It's a car, Dean. Don't get overly dramatic again.”

Dean gasps and puts his hand on his chest in mock offense. “Oh, dear, honey, _sweetheart_ – how can you say something so cruel?”

Castiel huffs a laugh. “You want to stand here for another few hours and tell me what a heartless bastard I am only because I don't burst into tears as soon as I spot a classic car or do you mind to get going before the sun starts to set again?”

Dean pouts in the most spectacular manner. “Okay, babe, it looks like I seriously need to reconsider this thing between us. 'Coz you're obviously not the man I thought you'd be.”

And then he walks straight up to the Impala and actually _fondles_ her roof, like an affectionate lover. “Don't listen to him, Baby,” he whispers softly to her. “He doesn't mean it like that. He doesn't know what he's talking about …”

Dean keeps on speaking to the car like it's a sentient being and Castiel, not surprised in the slightest by this turn of events since he witnessed Dean getting awfully personal with the automobile before, simply shakes his head in fond exasperation and slides into the passenger's seat without further ado.

“Hey, hey, we're having a _moment_ here,” Dean protests, hastily climbing onto the driver's seat like they're in some kind of race. “You can't just park your ass on the upholstery like it's any other car.”

Castiel frowns. “Did you hire a marching band for the occasion or something? To make a great show of me sitting down in your car for the very first time?”

“No, but you don't just plop your butt on the seat and call it a day –”

“Dean –”

“– because this is momentous, man –”

“Dean –”

“– and you shouldn't treat it like any other day –”

Castiel sighs, deeply, before he suddenly grabs the back of Dean's neck and yanks him closer, their faces almost smashed together. Dean makes a surprised yelp at the unexpected motion, but goes along easily, not even a speck of resistance.

Castiel smiles. “If you'd shut up we could celebrate the grand moment of our first _kiss_ in your car, what do you say?”

Dean does something very complicated with his face, obviously seriously considering putting up a fight over this and get his point across nonetheless. But soon enough he melts under Castiel's touch and leans in to press their lips together. It starts soft and sweet and ends with Dean nearly crawling onto Castiel's lap.

When they part Dean pants like he's run a marathon. “… uh, okay,” he croaks. “… that was … you're still a jackass, though –”

Castiel chuckles. “If you say so, dear. Now shut up and drive.”

So Dean does.

And, as Castiel learns very quickly, it's quite the experience.

Dean leads them over back roads and the most beautiful scenery New York State has to offer and he looks so confident and relaxed behind the wheel it's a sight to behold. His movements well practiced, his body one with every swerve of the vehicle, his focus fixed on the street ahead of him, yet also quite aware of everything going on around him. He looks so sanguine driving his Baby and Castiel finds himself realizing that he never was more gorgeous than right now.

Going on this trip definitely had been a good idea.

  
  


\---

  
  


Dean loves driving his Baby.

Unfortunately he doesn't have as much opportunity to do so as he wishes, but that makes the few occasions where they find themselves rushing over the roads and not having a care in the world so much sweeter. Sometimes it feels like he grew up in this car, taking road trips all over the country with his family, and that alone gives him a sense of home whenever he heads out himself. A time of peace in an otherwise exciting life.

And he always imagined that at one point, sometime in the future, he'd do the same with his own family. His amazing wife or husband by his side, a bunch of rugrats in the backseat singing along to their dad's classic rock, and a cooler of food in the trunk for their impromptu picnic wherever they end up to.

Yes, it's been a nice picture to hold on to in the last couple of years.

And now, of course, he can't help glancing at Cas, looking all handsome and right beside him in the passenger's seat. A serene smile on his face while the cool air blows through the open window, ruffling up his hair. He looks more than ready to stay exactly there for a very long time and it makes Dean's heart soar.

Without his own accord he finds himself imagining doing this more often. And maybe next time with Jack and Claire in the backseat, singing along to the music …

Damn, Dean surely gets ahead of himself, no question about that.

But it's so hard not to with Cas looking so at home in the Impala.

Dean quickly pushes those pictures down before he'd end up saying something utterly embarrassing way too soon and concentrates on the road ahead again and the deep, yet soothing rumble of the Impala. As a kid it always put him to sleep right away, as a teenager it made him feel safe, no matter the situation, and now, as an adult, it gives him a sensation of peace.

As soon as he hears and _feels_ Baby's engine he relaxes, associating it with calmness. Over the years he made it an important point to never drive her during work, promo tours, etc. Not only because he was eager to keep her private and not let his fans or the press spot her in any capacity, but also because he wanted her to stay his safe haven. For his extended road trips or when he set out to visit Sam or Mom – just stuff that makes him happy.

Just like the last time he drove to Lawrence to visit Cas and the kids.

So yeah, maybe next time he'll pop by he's gonna convince all of them to join him on a little day trip, with Cas sitting right next to him and Claire and Jack in the backseat, singing along to Dean's music –

And whoops, there he is again.

Dammit, this is way harder than he thought.

  
  


\---

  
  


It's about two hours later, with them simply driving and listening to the radio and having conversations about nothing important, when the Impala starts to complain about a nearly empty tank.

So they keep their eyes open and after nearly twenty minutes they spot a small gas station, nestled to the side of the road in a way you could have easily missed. Dean heads for it right away and parks the car at the pump furthest from the cashier sitting inside behind big windows. So far the man looks thoroughly bored as he plays with his phone and doesn't pay them any attention whatsoever, but Dean certainly doesn't want to take any unnecessary risks.

However, just as he rummaging around to find his cap Cas simply puts a hand onto his wrist to stop him. “Just stay here,” he says. “I take care of everything.”

Right.

Dean almost forgot how nice it is to have a second person with him on such trips.

“But only if you get us some snacks as well,” he nonetheless makes a point while waving his wallet in front of Cas like a bribe.

Cas only scoffs like that is a given anyway and doesn't wait around to grab Dean's money.

In the end it doesn't take long because they're the only ones there, but when Cas eventually returns from paying the bill, his arms filled with all kinds of candy and snacks, he doesn't slip back into his seat but instead halts right next to Dean on the driver's side and announces, “I would like to drive now.”

Dean raises his gaze from the phone in his hand and snorts through the open window. “Yeah, right.”

Cas narrows his eyes. “I'm serious.”

Dean can only scoff at that. “Dude, no offense, but no one drives Baby but me.”

“Dean –”

“Buddy, you're used to all those super modern cars that basically drive themselves,” Dean cuts in right away, not in the mood for any sort of discussion about this. “You've got no clue how to handle a classic.”

“I'm a fast learner,” Cas tries to reason. “And we're on the open road in the middle of nowhere. It's the perfect location for it.”

Dean merely shakes his head. “No way –”

Cas makes a low noise like he thinks Dean utterly ridiculous for being so possessive of his car before he suddenly straightens his shoulders, throws all the snacks onto Dean's lap to get them out his hands, grabs Dean by the collar of his shirt and hauls him forward, practically flinging him against the door. Dean yelps in surprise, but before he's even got a chance to voice his protest and wiggle himself out of the other man's grasp Cas connects their lips in a demanding kiss. For half a second Dean seriously considers to jerk back and give the guy a piece of his mind, but soon enough most of his blood rushes downstairs as his body remembers how much he likes being manhandled.

And being manhandled by Cas? A whole new level.

So Dean leans closer and groans as Cas gives it all he's got, dives right in and sucks Dean's tongue into his mouth as though he wants to claim it as his own.

Dean gets dizzy and a lot of other things rather quickly and he's actually glad when Cas eventually draws back again because he seriously couldn't have vouched for what would've happened next. Right here, in front of that little gas station.

“I would _very much_ like to drive the Impala, if you don't mind,” Cas repeats his request, his voice hoarse and clearly overly affected by the brief, yet powerful display of affection. Or whatever you wanna name it.

Dean, meanwhile, gasps for air and desperately tries to bring his brain back online.

“… You … you can't just – do _that_ whenever you wanna get your way,” he eventually manages to press through his teeth.

Cas only smirks smugly, the jackass. “Oh, but I can,” he whispers.

And then he leans right back in.

Dean actually winces, not sure if he could survive such an attack a second time, but thankfully this time Cas goes for gentle and sweet and so very soft it almost brings goddamned tears to Dean's eyes.

“ _Please_ ,” Cas breathes against Dean's lips. “I would love to try it.”

And so it comes that Dean finds himself on the passenger's seat just a second later.

Because he's weak like that.

So. Very. Weak.

And when Cas climbs back into the Impala behind the wheel like he's never done anything else in his life and then has the absolute audacity to pull a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket and put them on, Dean finds himself whimpering at the sight.

Granted, he somehow manages to keep it on a low volume, but Cas shoots him a knowing glance anyway.

The son of a bitch.

“You're the worst,” Dean grumbles while he fights back a powerful blush.

Cas just grins. “I know.”

And then he starts Baby.

The first half hour it's pretty obvious he isn't used to a classic car like the Impala. Tougher to handle and much bigger than his own back home it's no wonder he has to orientate himself first and get a feeling for the unique sensation that is Baby.

But it doesn't take long for Cas to get more confident. To become familiar with the Impala's little quirks, to anticipate her behavior. To get one with her motions.

And it's the hottest thing Dean has ever seen.

Yes, he's very particular about who's allowed to drive the Impala, but _damn_ , right here and now he can't imagine anything better than Cas sitting behind the wheel for the rest of their lives. Just driving down the open road and Dean staring at him the entire time, hoping not to die of an aneurysm at some point. Dean would happily revoke his own driver privileges for that.

And so he can't help shooting a quick picture and sending it to Charlie.

**Dean [1:46 PM]:** _I know you're not into guys but this DOES look stupid sexy, right?_

He doesn't have to wait too long for an answer.

**Charlie [1:48 PM]:** _ok first of all, you don't need to be into something to appreciate beauty. And second, DAMN_

Dean laughs. He couldn't have phrased it any better.

**Charlie [1:48 PM]:** _and is that a frigging trick of the light or is cas really driving your baby here????_

**Dean [1:49 PM]:** _we're on a little day trip and he wanted to give it a try_

**Charlie [1:50 PM]:** _and you just said yes???_

Dean sighs and realizes how very whipped he already is.

**Dean [1:50 PM]:** _I've got no chance against the guy._

**Charlie [1: 51 PM]:** _you're a hopeless cause winchester_

Dean nods in agreement, knowing fairly well that any sort of argument about this would be futile and an absolute waste of time.

**Dean [1:52 PM]:** _yeah I am_

Dean didn't intend to broadcast their new relationship just yet without letting it settle in first, but after Sam accidentally got the full picture Dean couldn't help sharing the news with Charlie as well. After all, she has always been encouraging about the whole thing, even in subtle ways, back when Dean was still lost in deep denial about his feelings, and as the one person constantly at his side, experiencing lots of his progress with Cas first hand, Dean figured she deserved to know.

Also he totally needed someone to talk to. About this new, great thing in his life he felt too overwhelmed to properly deal with. And sure, he's also got Sam, but the guy gets sometimes _too much_ about these kinds of things, too intense in every single way. Thankfully Charlie has always been great in setting his head straight and telling him how it is. Granted, she also squeals sometimes and gets overly nosy, but it's bearable compared to Sam, so Dean's flowing with it for now.

After all, he knows it'll only get worse when he eventually tells his mother.

“Are you taking pictures?” Cas' voice suddenly pierces through Dean's reverie, all deep and gravelly. Dean's head snaps up right away and he just catches Cas quickly glancing in his direction before training his gaze back on the street again.

“Yep, to capture the moment,” Dean replies easily. “And also because you look stupidly hot right now.”

There, he said it.

Thankfully Cas seems pretty pleased by that information. “I do?”

Dean glowers at him. “Don't pretend like you don't know what you're doing. With the sunglasses and all that …”

Cas only smirks far too pleased in response and keeps on driving.

  
  


\---

  
  


They're on the road for quite a while when both their stomachs start to grumble, not satisfied anymore with the snacks Dean and Cas had been providing for them.

It takes another fifteen minutes for them to spot a diner that is worthy of their attention and soon enough they have parked in a quiet corner, far away from any potential curious eyes. Cas easily takes Dean's wallet again like it's second nature by now and walks inside without even waiting for Dean to voice his order, obviously confident that he knows the other man well enough by now to guess his food preference.

And when Cas sometime later returns with a cheeseburger, fries and a slice of pie Dean realizes that he surely does know him.

For a moment Dean is so affected by this he just wants to pull Cas into a kiss that would tell the guy everything Dean is incapable of voicing properly. But in the end he refrains from this because he's well aware he wouldn't be able to stop anytime soon and making out in a diner's parking lot for like an hour would only result in their food getting cold and the chances of someone spotting them increasing majorly.

So Dean decides to postpone his gratitude for the time being.

After a bit of driving around – which, again, Cas does in the sexiest way possible without even trying – they find a secluded, green spot right at a lake. The water sparkles beautifully thanks to the sun shining down on it and it's so ridiculously romantic that Dean seriously starts to wonder whether they accidentally stumbled into one of his movies. Since it seems so freaking unreal it actually hurts.

Cas, however, is way too focused on his loudly protesting stomach to get lost in quiet awe about the view. He just grabs the bag, climbs out of the car and slides smoothly onto Baby's hood.

“Come on, the food's getting cold,” Cas urges him after Dean spent too many minutes just staring at this gorgeous man and wondering how he could've ended up so lucky.

And so they settle on the food, revel in the amazing view and just enjoy each other's company. It actually feels so damned peaceful that once again Dean gets more and more convinced that this can't be true life.

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas suddenly says, after a long period of comfortable silence. “For this trip. And entrusting me with you car.”

Dean throws him a toothy smile. “Only because you were playing dirty, babe,” he reminds him, the memory of Cas almost devouring him in the parking lot to turn Dean into a useless pile of mush still vivid on his mind.

Cas merely laughs, not an ounce of regret flickering over his face. “Well, what can I say? It obviously worked.”

And he looks like he would happily do it again.

The bastard.

That mean, cruel, gorgeous, wonderful bastard.

Dean sighs and despite the fact that he knows he should pick up a fight about this he merely shrugs his shoulders and admits to himself that yeah, he is whipped and weak and there is nothing he can do about it.

There is nothing he _wants_ to do about it.

And so he merely smirks, whispers, “You have too much power over me, Novak” and leans right in, more than ready to meet Cas in the middle.

But just before their lips are able to touch Dean feels something wet landing on his cheek. Something wet coming from high above.

_Damn_.

That stupid rain again.

“Are you fucking kidding me??”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, yeah, the stupid weather.  
> Always being extra inconvenient >.<
> 
> Well, I hope you had fun with their little road trip and Cas playing poor Dean like a fiddle!
> 
> Let's see what he's up to in the next chapter 👀


	42. One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -
> 
> **If NSFW content is not your cup of tea, please just skip this chapter and jump right over to the next one!**
> 
>   
> Hey, fellas! *waves excitedly*
> 
> As you may have already noticed by the change in rating, we're getting into smut territory now 😏
> 
> All explicit content will be hosted in separate chapters, though, so that anyone who wants to enjoy just the fluffy, T-rated goodiness can easily skip those without missing anything important of the plot.
> 
> So if you'd rather wait for next week's chapter, I'll see you then!
> 
> For everyone else, have fun ;)
> 
> -

The downpour hits them hard and fairly unexpected.

One second Dean is complaining about a couple of droplets raining down on him and then all of sudden it comes down mercilessly, turning everything wet so quickly Castiel barely has time to register what's even happening. Thankfully Dean notices his startled demeanor, hastily grabs his hand and drags Castiel along with him.

That's how he finds himself in the back seat of the Impala just a moment later.

And not too soon because just as he's shutting the door behind himself the rain falls down on them in full force. Everything suddenly morphs into something gray and loud, attacking Castiel's senses with such a violence he actually ends up a little dazed. The Impala suddenly starts to feel small and confined, yet somehow the only place where he's sheltered from the power of the elements.

Dean, meanwhile, bends down to rummage around underneath the seat and eventually surfaces with a towel and a blanket in his hands. He says something to Castiel in explanation that suspiciously sounds like “emergency storage”, but due to the volume of the rain smashing onto the car's roof he can't be exactly sure.

Nonetheless he takes the towel gratefully and dries himself at least to a certain degree while Dean spreads the blanket under them, probably both to make it a bit more comfortable for them and also to protect the upholstery. Castiel at least has no problem exchanging the leather for something fuzzy and soft, so he doesn't even consider arguing about it.

Dean smiles at him as he's positioned the blanket to his satisfaction, all open and warm, and Castiel figures that leaning in and stealing the kiss that's been denied to them earlier is the only logical thing to do.

Dean, thankfully, seems to agree wholeheartedly and soon enough one kiss turns into two, and three, and four …

Before he even knows it Castiel finds himself pressed against the back rest, with Dean's body all over him. And despite his slightly wet clothes he's radiating such a high amount of heat it's almost unbearable. Castiel begins to sweat not long after, but somehow is helpless against Dean's _everything_ and yanks him even closer, cranking up the temperature even more.

While Dean makes some very happy sounds and buries his hand into Castiel's hair, eager for more contact.

And Castiel decides for himself that he loves this.

He loves being with Dean in such a way. Close. Intimate. Touching all over.

And in that very moment he realizes he wants _more_.

He wants _closer_.

So before he's able to berate himself and allow his brain to talk itself into a ridiculous frenzy he breaks the kiss, slowly, and leans back a little to look straight into Dean's eyes.

Thankfully the rain had already tamed down enough for the next words to be heard well. At least due to the close proximity currently between them.

“We should get out of our wet clothes,” Castiel whisper-shouts, his heart beating like crazy, both with anxiety and excitement. A part of himself can't actually believe he's really doing this, the mere idea too surreal to even consider, but he also feels a strange determination suddenly rushing through his veins.

It's _Dean_ , he tells himself over and over.

There is nothing to be nervous about.

Dean, however, only chuckles, evidently not catching up on what Castiel is implying right now. “Dude, it's August, we're not gonna catch our death,” he objects, amusement sliced in his tone. “Besides, I don't know about you, but my clothes aren't _that_ wet –”

He tugs at his barely clammy shirt to make a point.

Castiel, meanwhile, takes a deep breath and gives it all to make his gaze as pointed as possible. “We should get out of our clothes,” he repeats, emphasizing every single word.

Confusion flickers over Dean's features now as he lets his eyes roam over Castiel's face, apparently searching for some clarification. Castiel attempts to give it to him by raising his brow and biting his lip in a hopefully suggestive manner.

And even though he probably looks absurd in the process it's enough to get through to Dean in the process and Castiel watches cautiously as Dean's eyes widen the very next second.

“… ooooh,” he breathes, shock and awe and a thousand other emotions wavering in his tone. “You – you mean – you wanna –?”

“Yes,” Castiel whispers, not eager to back down now.

Dean blinks a few times as he takes a good while to get his brain into a somewhat functioning state again.

“You – you – are you _sure_?” Dean pulls a face, clearly looking for the right words. “I mean –”

Castiel snorts and instead of giving a verbal answer he yanks Dean in for another kiss, this time making it extra sensual. He runs his tongue absolutely shamelessly over Dean's lips and as the man gasps at the sensation Castiel uses the opportunity to dive right in. Dean seems overwhelmed for a second there, almost passive as Castiel deepens the kiss, but soon enough he gets in with the program, instinct kicking in. Before Castiel even knows it they're interlocked passionately, Dean groaning into his mouth like he can't get enough. Like he's starving and needs every bit of water to survive.

“ _Yes_ , I am sure,” Castiel eventually announces when they have to part again to draw some much needed oxygen back into their respective lungs. He sounds hoarse and husky and overall so very different than ever before in his life, but his tone is unwavering.

Dean pants and stares and for a minute or two seems to seriously contemplate what to do next. Where to put his hands, where to even settle his eyes.

In the end he decides on a low and rather wobbly laugh. “Like, for real? Here?”

He gestures at the confined space around them. At the back seat barely big enough for two grown men.

“Don't tell me you haven't been thinking about this very scenario,” Castiel states. There are many things he is certain of and Dean fantasizing about sex in his beloved car is right on top of that.

And as expected, Dean huffs. “ _Of course_ I have,” he counters, almost sounding insulted at the mere implication. “It's in my personal Top Three.”

Figures.

“But … I just …” he begins to stammer again. “I want it to be perfect for you and … y'know …?”

Castiel feels his heart seize as he watches this beautiful man squirm on the spot, torn between being a gentleman, considering all of Castiel's needs, and throwing everything overboard and simply jumping right in.

“Dean …” Castiel says softly, cupping the man's cheek. “I really don't need rose petals and candles or anything like that.”

“But –”

“All that matters is that we're together. Wouldn't you agree?”

Dean creases his forehead and blinks a few times. “I mean, yeah, of course …”

“Then the location doesn't really matter.” Castiel simply shrugs. “We're here and you look gorgeous, all wet and ruffled up. It's as easy as that.”

A light blush shows up on Dean's cheeks again and it might be the most amazing thing Castiel has ever seen. “Um … yeah, okay … you look, uh …”

He makes some erratic hand gestures, obviously hoping that Castiel would be able to interpret those cryptic motions with ease.

Castiel can't help a soft smile. “Thank you, I appreciate your way with words.”

Dean scowls at that. “Jackass …”

“I'm _your_ jackass, though,” Castiel points out.

For a moment Dean blinks, as if he has no idea what to do with that statement, but then he leans in again and leaves a lingering kiss on Castiel's lips. It's answer enough.

“I'm just saying, this isn't just a cheap quickie in some random car,” Castiel further tries to explain his reasoning, rather eager to make Dean feel comfortable with the situation. “Baby has been with you for such a long time she almost feels like home to you. Perhaps even more so than any place you ever have lived in. She was the one constant while you moved all across the country, over and over again.”

Dean's eyes glint and Castiel sees the affirmation in them. He told many stories about his childhood before, all the travels and ordeals, and the Impala always played an important part in those.

“This car feels like _you_ ,” Castiel states, his voice getting a little shaky. “So in my opinion it's the perfect location.”

Dean takes a deep breath.

Obviously in quite a need to collect himself.

“But if you're not comfortable with the situation we can wait, naturally,” Castiel is quick to add. “After all, we _both_ have to feel –”

He doesn't get a chance to finish that sentence before he is hauled into a hard kiss. Dean pours everything into it, intensity and passion, and Castiel feels himself getting dizzy rather fast.

“ _Fuck_ , dammit, I want you –” Dean gasps against his skin as he trails hot kisses down Castiel's jaw. “– always want you –”

Castiel never before heard anyone talk about him in such a manner, with such a hoarse hitch in their voice, and it's a rush he's definitely not prepared for. He finds himself making a tiny yet desperate sound in the back of his throat as Dean pulls them even closer.

Castiel allows himself to _feel_. Before he always tried to stay in control, to be ahead of things, but with Dean he simply knows that keeping a cool head isn't in the cards. Even the sensation of the man's hand running down his spine with all clothes still on sends shivers through Castiel's body, therefore he has no hope whatsoever that he would be able to remain focused and levelheaded as soon as naked skin would be involved.

No, Castiel knows this experience will be something different.

And he can't wait for it.

So as Dean proceeds to pepper burning kisses onto his neck, devouring him as though he has every intention to mark him all over, Castiel angles his head to give him better access while simultaneously beginning to unbutton his shirt. It's quite a struggle, with his hands trembling like crazy, but he's fueled with just enough determination to get the job done to somehow master the task. Albeit four times slower than usual.

Dean, at least, hums his approval with every inch of skin that is revealed one button at a time and soon enough wanders further down, not having any patience to wait for Castiel to finish. At first it's just his fingertips brushing over Castiel's collarbone, his ribs, his nipples, sending exhilarating jolts throughout Castiel's entire system and making him groan. But not long after it's Dean's mouth trailing downwards, his lips and tongue teasing Castiel's sensitive skin. Castiel's bucks his hips involuntarily as he feels a throbbing heat starting to blossom in his lower regions.

And as Dean has the absolute audacity to suck and even softly bite on one of his nipples Castiel lets out a guttural sound he had no idea he possessed the ability to produce.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” he moans, the coarse language slipping out of him as though he never used anything else in all his life.

Dean smiles against Castiel's skin, apparently fairly pleased with himself. “You like that, babe?”

Instead of a verbal response Castiel growls and yanks Dean up for a heated kiss again. Dean follows along happily, plastering himself all over Castiel, seeking for every sort of contact he can find. They kiss and kiss and kiss, one moment gentle and sensual, the next one passionate and devouring. Castiel feels like he's getting whiplash and he loves every second of it.

“What … what, _shit_ , what do you – want –?” Dean eventually pants, his train of thoughts obviously highly compromised by what they're doing. “You can – anything – _anything_ –”

Castiel, currently busy running his fingers through Dean's hair and reveling in the sensation of the man in his arms shuddering expressively at that, can't help hesitating at the question. Because the possibilities are endless and as he takes a second to think it over he realizes he has no real clue.

What _does_ he want?

To be with Dean, in a much more intimate way than they have been before? Yes, of course. To feel him everywhere? Yes please. To hear him make all those wonderful sounds Castiel hasn't heard from him yet? No question about that.

But beyond that?

He suddenly gets aware how utterly unprepared he is for this. He barely has any sexual experience and he's surely never been with a man. And he knows the mechanics, yes, and everything it entails, but to read about it in a book and to actually experience it are two different things entirely.

Dean notices his hesitation right away and stills. “You okay, Cas?” he asks, concern in his tone. “You want me to stop –?”

“No, no, please,” Castiel hurries to reassure him. “It's just – I don't really know what I'm doing –”

Dean's features soften immediately. And then he leans in to press the most gentle kiss on Castiel's lips, his whole demeanor so tender and calm Castiel can't help getting all relaxed himself.

“Let me just take care of you, alright?” Dean whispers against his skin.

And Castiel finds himself nodding because at the end of the day he trusts this man more than anyone.

“If I do anything you don't like, tell me,” Dean continues. “We can try something else or just stop – I wouldn't mind, we could just cuddle for a while instead of whatever –”

Feeling a frantic ramble coming their way Castiel merely smiles and connects their lips in a soft kiss again. Dean hums happily at that and melts right away, any nervousness soon forgotten.

They kiss and touch for a while longer, just content to bond with each other in such a way. Mouths grazing over skin, hands roaming over each others' bodies. It feels exciting, exploring one another in a manner they haven't really dared before.

When their kisses get a bit more fevered, though, Dean suddenly pulls back. Castiel pouts at the sudden loss of contact and makes a displeased sound which immediately dies down, however, as Dean throws him a cocky wink before grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head in one swift motion. Suddenly Castiel sees himself confronted with a naked chest and disheveled hair and he couldn't have been happier about it.

For a moment he just looks, remembering the moment back in Dean's bathroom when he accidentally walked in on the man. He recalls how he felt this sudden need to _touch_ , to get closer.

As he feels it right now.

And after a long moment of simply staring he abruptly commemorates that this time he doesn't have to hold back anymore. No, he's free to use all of his senses to drink everything in. And by the look on Dean's face Castiel's fairly sure he's quite encouraged to do so.

And so Castiel doesn't hold back.

He runs his fingers over Dean's smooth skin and finds himself in awe over how warm he feels. How amazing. It seems like Castiel's tips start to tingle at the contact and for a moment he seriously considers Dean using some secret voodoo magic on him because it seems like the most plausible explanation.

Castiel brushes over Dean's ribs, his pecs, his nipples (which results in Dean making a wonderful choking sound) and eventually settles on the tattoo. Dean told him a few days ago that it's an occult symbol, meant to keep demons out, which Sam and he had gotten after Sam's graduation from college. It apparently just had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, with both of them a little tipsy after celebrating Sam's achievement at a local bar, but Dean soon grew to fall in love with it and feels rather proud of it now.

And Castiel can't deny that it does something to him to see the ink on Dean's skin. He touches it, carefully, thoroughly, and watches Dean's smile widen at Castiel's scrutiny.

“You like it, Cas?” he breathes.

Castiel answers this by lifting his upper body upwards to be able to reach it properly. He throws Dean one last smug grin (at least he hopes it looks smug) before pressing his lips against the tattoo and peppering it with soft pecks. And when Dean hums happily at all the attention Castiel can't help licking it.

Which gets Dean to moan lowly and whisper, “Cas –” in a broken voice Castiel would love to hear much more of.

So, as he lavishes the tattoo, he lets his hand run downwards again, drinks it all in, the overwhelming sensations of having Dean in such a way. And when he brushes over Dean's hipbone and finally reaches his happy trail the man makes the most amazing noises at that. He bucks his hips, apparently unable to help himself, and Castiel finds himself entranced by the visible bulge in his pants.

For a moment he seriously can't believe that he is the one who has that kind of effect on Dean. Who makes his body react in such a manner.

It seems utterly unreal.

And it lets Castiel feel ridiculously intrigued about what else he might get out of Dean.

So he fights the last remnants of anxiety aside and allows that feeling to take over. The curiosity, the eagerness, the enthusiasm. He doesn't have time for doubts and uncertainty with such a beautiful man at his mercy.

So he brushes his fingers over Dean's belt buckle and breathes, “May I –?”

Dean gazes down on him and his eyes are so lust blown it almost throws Castiel completely off again. He's pretty sure nobody has ever looked at him like that before, with so much desire on their features.

But, as always, Dean is not like anybody else.

“Yeah, yeah …” Dean croaks, his voice barely a broken thing by now. “ … just … anything, babe … do what feels good …”

That's all the permission Castiel needs.

And so, after a bit of awkward fumbling and shaky hands, he manages to open up Dean's belt and slowly goes over to work on his zipper. Bringing him rather close to the now obvious bulge, causing Dean to actually whimper as he watches Castiel's every movement with rapt attention.

Castiel feels strangely powerful all of a sudden, knowing without a doubt that he could turn Dean into an incoherent and useless mess, and it gives him a boost he never would have expected. He's rather sure at this point he would have started hesitating again, his nervousness taking over once more, but as he looks at Dean biting his lips in anticipation and getting lost in all the sensations, Castiel feels quite confident all at once.

And so he yanks Dean's jeans down, as far as their position allows, and is rewarded with a perfect view of Dean's very tight briefs. His hardness is glaring now, the tip of his length even peeking out of the waistband, and Castiel feels his own body reacting in kind. He actually gets quite lightheaded when most of his blood rushes down into his groin area.

For a few long moments he just stares and licks his lips, reveling in the sight of Dean apparently needing all his strength to stay immobile, leading to his muscles trembling due to all the strain. He's exhilarating seeing Dean struggling so much, as though it takes monumental effort for him to hold still and not tackle Castiel back into the seat, and in the end it leads Castiel's hand.

At first he just lightly skids over Dean's erection, barely more than a breath of wind, but the thin layer of cloth obviously does next to nothing to lessen the contact. At least Dean groans as though Castiel had taken him into a tight grip, biting his bottom lip so hard now he might end up bloody sooner than later. He tries to remain still, but it's more than evident that he wants to lean in, wants to chase the sensation.

And so Castiel tightens his touch a little, capturing Dean's length through his briefs, and finds himself rather intrigued by the heat of it all. And of course also by Dean's reaction, making all those delicious noises and leaning into the touch like a starved man. Feeling suddenly brave by all of this Castiel can't help pulling the waistband down and gripping Dean's erection without any layers between them.

Dean moans loudly and almost tips over while Castiel watches him with rapt interest, blown away by the impact he's obviously having on the man. He strokes Dean's length a bit firmer and finds himself rather captivated by the sensation. Dean is big and also very hard and the feeling of that unfamiliar weight in his hand actually makes Castiel's mouth water. He knows how good it feels to touch himself, especially with lots of pent-up energy in the mix, and he can't even begin to fathom how amazing it might be to have another person do it.

And so he strokes and strokes and quite greedily absorbs all those wonderful noises and Dean whispering Castiel's name over and over.

Eventually, though, Dean wipes his hand away and leans forward to press a hard kiss onto Castiel's lips.

“Fuck, Cas –” he rasps. “Almost making me come, you bastard –”

The thought of Dean already being so close after such a short period of time is surely exhilarating and Castiel can't help deepening the kiss once more, making Dean groan fairly raucously again.

Before he even knows it Castiel finds himself lying on his back, the fuzzy blanket right beneath him. Dean seems keen on following right away, plastering himself all over Castiel's body, but in the last minute he wiggles out of his pants and briefs. It's not easy in the confined space and it definitely looks rather amusing than alluring, but Castiel watches every move with scrutiny like there might be a test later.

Soon enough Dean is naked and so very beautiful, but before Castiel has a chance to tell him that Dean is on top of him again, apparently desperate for another kiss. Castiel, naturally, grants him that wish while he also revels in the sensation of their skin meeting in such a way. With his chest already bare he feels Dean's warmth, his heat, and it might very well be the most amazing thing he ever experienced.

And it makes him hungry for more. So as Dean is rather busy devouring his mouth Castiel's hand wanders to his own belt, eager to get the show on the road. But with Dean pushing him onto the seat, his body not leaving a bit of space between them, it turns out next to impossible to reach his own buckle.

Thankfully Dean catches up to Castiel's plan quickly and a handsome smirks flickers over his features as he breathes, “Let me help.”

Once again he makes a show of kissing down Castiel's chest and Castiel can't say he terribly minds. It actually feels so utterly wonderful he barely registers Dean opening up his jeans and tugging them down. It doesn't take long for Castiel to find himself all exposed apart from his briefs and he probably would've felt at least a bit flustered if Dean wouldn't have stared at him as though he's the most delicious pie.

And so he nods fiercely as Dean tentatively reaches for his waistband and shoots Castiel a questioning look, despite all that desire sparkling in his eyes more than keen on doing nothing Castiel wouldn't be comfortable with.

But Dean also doesn't wait around as soon as he's got his consent and just a moment later Castiel is all naked as well, sprawled on the Impala's back seat.

He can honestly admit that over all these years he never thought such a scenario would ever happen.

Dean certainly seems to share the sentiment while he gapes at Castiel and whispers, “ _Damn_!”

And then he's all over Castiel again, obviously desperate for more contact. They kiss and kiss, sometimes sweet and soft, sometimes so close to utterly filthy it makes Castiel flush quite impressively. And they move against each other, their skin all damp and sweaty now as the atmosphere between them charges more and more. Castiel finds himself panting and whimpering and even moaning as his hardness rubs against Dean's and makes the most amazing sensation run down his spine.

It's all heat and touch between them and Castiel can't get enough of it.

  
  


\---

  
  


Never in his wildest dream Dean would ever imagined having something like this.

Granted, he often fantasized about him and Cas getting all frisky in the back seat. In all kinds of positions, most of them super impractical because of the small space. Nonetheless it surely didn't stop Dean from picturing straddling Cas' lap and riding his cock or dropping to the floor and sucking the guy off.

Yes, his mind surely didn't care about logistics.

And right now Dean doesn't really do either. Yes, his feet got smashed against the door several times by now and he's pretty sure he will have some bruises due to his arm hitting the front seat more than once, but all of that is most definitely worth it.

With Cas writhing beneath him, all wonderfully naked and breathing hard, it's a dream come true.

And Dean only knows it isn't just another fantasy because he could never dream up something like this. It's on a whole new level and his brain wouldn't have the capacity to come up with it.

No way in hell.

So yes, this must be true and it's probably only due to Dean's brain not working properly anymore than he didn't freak out yet and have a freaking aneurysm or whatever.

No, Dean decided somewhere along the way to simply go with the flow and let his body take over because otherwise he might as well ended up dead rather sooner than later.

After all, the dude just needs to touch his dick and Dean's mind is already blown.

He had his fair shade of sex over the years and some of it had been exceptionally incredible, but still nothing compares to this. In the grand scheme of things they haven't even done that much yet and Dean is already close to the end of the line. Having Cas like this, naked and looking up to him with those ridiculously blue eyes, hazy lust and wonder glinting within them, eager to see what comes next – yeah, Dean is barely able to handle that.

It's indescribable to watch Cas like this. Shy and tentative, but also curious and keen on taking some initiative.

Dean kisses him again – his cheek, his jaw, his neck – and absorbs it all. He tastes incredible and he smells so intoxicating Dean wouldn't be surprised if he'd end up insane sometime soon, driven mad by all his senses overloading at the same time.

“Cas –” he gasps against Cas' skin, desperate for oxygen and simultaneously not giving a damn as long as he can have this. “… damn, you're so gorgeous …”

Cas rewards that compliment by ramming his elbow straight into Dean's collarbone.

Quite painfully.

“Oh shit, I'm so sorry,” Cas exclaims instantly, his eyes wide in shock as he watches Dean startling at the unexpected attack. “I didn't mean that –”

He almost sounds panicky, as if he seriously thinks Dean would believe him using violence deliberately in such a manner, and Dean hurries to soothe his nerves instantly.

By bursting into loud laughter.

“Oh dude, don't worry,” he chuckles before peppering a series of kisses onto Cas' neck again. “You losing control over your limbs tells me I'm doing something right.”

Cas doesn't seem to know what to say. There is still lust on his features and an eagerness to go on, no matter what, but he also brushes softly over the spot on Dean's collarbone like he wants to heal him somehow, looking all kinds of guilty.

“It's okay, babe,” Dean assures him. “Great sex sometimes gets that way.”

Cas blinks. “It does?”

Dean hums and leans even closer, forcing himself to focus on the situation at hand and not on how his cock finds itself entrapped against Cas' unfairly firm stomach, creating just the teasing sort of friction that drives you nuts.

“Limbs flying around …” Dean croaks, “… emotions all over the place – fun …” He runs his fingers through Cas' disheveled hair. “You're having fun, Cas, right?”

For a moment Dean's actually concerned this whole thing might be a bit too much for the guy to actually feel good about it, in a loose and nice way at least.

Thankfully, though, Cas grins lopsidedly at Dean's question. “I do have fun, yes.”

Dean surges upwards and drops another kiss onto the man's mouth. “That's all I needed to hear,” he states. “So if you wanna punch me some more –”

He doesn't get a chance to finish that sentence before the very next moment he feels Cas pinching his ass cheek, making Dean yelp in surprise.

“ _Dude_!” he exclaims.

Cas shoots him an innocent smile that's so fake it actually hurts to look at. “I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself –”

Dean growls, more due to arousal than anything else, and soon enough they're kissing again and rubbing against each other. At first it's quite clumsy because they're way too busy grinning and laughing to find some sort of rhythm, but it gets unbearable hot between them very fast again as they roll their hips against one another, seeking for the most delicious friction.

Eventually Dean finds at least enough brain cells in his head active to maneuver his hand between their rutting bodies and take them both in hand.

Cas makes a choking noise as Dean touches him and on instinct fucks himself deeper into Dean's fist, desperate for the tightness. Dean, meanwhile, goes quite mad with all the different sensations. His entire body starts to tingle and his skin feels like it's bursting into flames, eager to leave him behind as a mere pile of ash.

At first he forces himself to go slow, to savor everything, every single touch, every single breathy moan. However, rather sooner than later the last remnants of his blood rush downstairs in record speed and his body takes over completely. Determined and very much desperate to satisfy its needs.

So Dean picks up the pace and finds himself fairly relieved when Cas grunt approvingly in response and meets Dean's motions as best as he can. It doesn't take long for both of them to get rather quite frantic, any sort of grace or rhythm forgotten as they just bend their bodies in the most favorable direction to get the best friction while panting into each others' mouths because kissing is impossible at this point.

The temperature in the car rises and rises as Dean grips both their cocks even tighter, their combined precome making every stroke smooth and excruciatingly wonderful.

And at some point Dean can do nothing else but squeeze his eyes shut because he's so close …

So very close …

“Look at me,” Cas rasps, his voice deep and high and broken, all at the same time.

And Dean follows the command without a second guess. Before he even knows it he drowns in Castiel's lust blown and yet so beautifully blue eyes and there is something so ridiculously intimate about this that Dean finds himself lost immediately.

He moans one last time and then it's over. He spills over his hand and Cas' dick and belly, leaving an absolute mess behind.

Cas glances down, keen on being witness to all of it, and it's obviously more than enough to tip him over as well. Dean watches in fascination as he reaches his breaking point as well and comes all over himself, with Dean's name on his lips.

For a long moment they just revel in their respective orgasms, absolutely unable to function beside that, but eventually Dean's arms give up on him and he crashes into Cas' chest like a sack of heavy potatoes. Thankfully Cas is quite the buff guy, otherwise it might have resulted in some broken ribs.

As it is Dean stretches himself all over Cas and gasps for oxygen like he's run a freaking marathon. A very long time he just lies there, trying to get his brain to focus on more than just the smell of Cas and sex filling the air.

As expected, though, it's super hard to concentrate on anything else.

It's only due to Cas nudging his shoulder at some point and complaining about the stickiness that Dean eventually finds himself reacting. He fumbles for the towel and wipes them off as good as manageable before he scoots upwards again and presses a soft kiss onto Cas' temple.

“ _Damn_ ,” he whispers. “That was …”

He trails off again, having no words for what just happened.

Cas chuckles, obviously sharing the sentiment. “Indeed. I couldn't have phrased it better.”

He still sounds absurdly hoarse, like he spent hours screaming his head off, and it's so stupidly hot that Dean would've easily gotten hard again if he would've been a decade or two younger. As it is now he can only growl and steal himself another kiss.

“But – it was fine, right?” he can't help asking nonetheless. Because he suddenly remembers that the guy hadn't had sex for very long years and that might very well be a bit overwhelming at first. “You didn't …?”

Cas smiles at him softly. And also somewhat dazed. “I'm perfect, Dean,” he assures, looking all kinds of dopey. “ _This_ – was perfect.”

It most definitely was.

And so Dean finds himself laughing. “God, I can't believe we had sex in the back seat of my fucking car!”

Cas chuckles right along with him. “I have to admit it is a bit unexpected,” he says. “But at the same time it fits.”

Dean sighs contently and thinks that he would be more than happy to just stay here for the rest of their lives.

Naked and sweaty and messy and entangled with each other.

Perfect indeed.


	43. Sam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, my friends!!
> 
> As the title already suggests, there might be some Sam action coming your way this chapter ;)
> 
> I hope you have fun 💗
> 
> -

The rest of their time together flies by with an impressive speed.

Castiel feels like he just arrived yesterday, all bright-eyed and excited, and then all of a sudden it's their last evening in Dean's house before they would head out to Sam's place the next day. And even though Castiel can't wait to finally meet Sam in person again, he's also been dreading the moment from the very beginning, knowing only too well that it would mark the end of his stay in New York. His stay with Dean.

The whole time they managed to ignore the fact. Tuned everything out while they simply enjoyed their days filled with domestic bliss, bickering and intimacy. They fell into a routine so utterly easily as if they've been into each others' lives in such a way for years already. So it was a simple thing to blatantly pay the end in sight no mind. To pretend they would continue to live like this for the rest of eternity.

But now, as they're sitting on the couch, watching a movie and feeling very well the magnitude of the situation, it's impossible to dismiss any longer.

They will have to part ways on Monday.

Without being really sure when they would see one another again.

At least it won't be that easy anymore. The school year is about to start, throwing Castiel back into work full time, and Dean also has several projects lined up which promise to keep him preoccupied for a while. Granted, they both have their free time, but it's going to be a challenge to coordinate all of that. It's not like they're living close by and are able to pop by on a whim. No, it will require planning and scheduling and lots of traveling.

“I've got a few appointments in Arizona in September,” Dean says all of a sudden, right in the middle of the movie he's obviously been barely paying attention to. “I could arrange a few days off afterwards and maybe drive through Lawrence on my way back. Stay a few days, if you don't mind.”

Castiel smiles slightly. It seems their upcoming departure has been on Dean's mind rather prominently as well.

“And maybe you could hop onto a plane from time to time, fly to Albany and stay every other weekend here with me,” Dean continues. “Of course I'll pay for everything, even first class and all that shit …”

Naturally it would be much safer for Castiel to travel like that than Dean. Dean would have a hard time staying anonymous on a commercial flight and since he'd rather eat solely salad for the rest of his life than ever consider getting anything akin to a private jet or something like that his options are more limited.

Castiel, however, doesn't care. He actually enjoys flying and both Claire and Jack are old enough to survive time alone at home without their father. It certainly would be the much smarter choice.

“We will see each other in person soon enough,” Castiel promises, scooting closer to Dean. “We're both way too stubborn and determined to not make it work somehow.”

Dean grins in amusement, but it fades quite quickly again. “I'm just – I guess I'm gonna miss _this_ ,” he says, gesturing at both of them cuddled up on the couch. “Having you around and stuff –”

Castiel definitely can relate. The thought of going back to Lawrence, of continuing with his life and sleeping in that large bed of his all by himself almost appears surreal now.

“Me too,” he whispers as he buries his face in Dean's neck. “I'm going to miss this, too.”

  
  


\---

  
  


Friday arrives quickly after that and before they even know it they have stashed Castiel's suitcase in the Impala and a light duffle bag for Dean, all ready to go. And after a last sweep of the cottage (where Castiel, with a heavy heart, feels a weird need to utter an emotional goodbye to it, even though he knows he will be back someday, hopefully quite soon) they're on the road on their journey to Albany.

And as Dean already told him beforehand the trip only takes about half an hour. Castiel barely has time to properly enjoy the view before they reach the first suburban parts of the city. Dean takes some secret paths, the route already ingrained so much into his very being it's one smooth transition, and soon enough they find themselves turning into a private driveway, belonging to a small, beautiful house at the end of the street. But instead of parking the Impala right there Dean pulls a remote out of the glove compartment and pushes a button, resulting in the garage door rattling to life and opening up for them.

“I always go in through the garage,” Dean explains as he slowly drives inside and stops next to a silver Subaru which must belong to Sam. “That way no nosy neighbors might accidentally spot me.”

It's certainly preferable to walking over the open front yard, Castiel has to agree.

As the gate closes behind them, allowing them all the privacy they need, Dean climbs out of the car and instantly yells, “Hey, Samquatch, you've got company!”

It doesn't take long for movement to be heard inside the house (Sam probably waited close to the door leading to the garage anyway, knowing that they would soon arrive that way), but when the door opens it's not the younger Winchester who greets them first but two very excited fur balls.

The dogs – Bones and Riot, if Castiel recalls correctly – downright tackle Dean to the ground, so completely giddy to see Sam's brother again they actually look like on the brink of losing their mind. There is a lot of fierce tail wagging and yipping and licking and Dean writhing on the floor, switching between swearing and laughing.

“God – dammit, you're crazy, you stupid mutts –” Dean complains loudly, but he's also grinning brightly, belying his words at the same time.

Castiel finds himself chuckling at the sight and that's when the dogs suddenly seem to notice his presence. They eye him warily at first, most likely not really sure if he's actually supposed to be here or perhaps even an intruder trespassing on their territory without permission. But when Dean assures them, “Don't worry, he's our friend” in a gentle voice it's obviously enough for those two to dismiss any suspicions and doubts and instead welcome Castiel in their home.

Thankfully they're still a bit reserved and don't smash into his kneecaps like with Dean but rather greet him happily by stretching their necks out, hoping for some nice pats. Castiel instantly follows through and scratches both their ears just right, resulting in Bones and Riot closing their eyes in pleasure and shuffling closer to him to not miss a single thing.

“Well, looks like you're getting quite popular,” another voice suddenly pipes up.

Castiel raises his head and immediately spots Sam standing in the doorway, a toothy grin on his lips as he watches his dogs cuddling up to the newcomer.

Castiel, meanwhile, can't help studying the man who's been a boy of barely ten years the last time he saw him. It feels like a lifetime ago and yet, as he looks into those familiar eyes, fond memories bubble to the surface. How bright and energetic Sam always had been. How he sometimes sat down with Castiel in their backyard and asked him a million questions about basically anything, eager to absorb all the information like a sponge. How he constantly looked at Dean as though he was his hero, even when they clashed and argued like siblings do.

Yes, Castiel has no problem recalling their time together. Because he deemed Sam a friend back then as well.

And his smile is still the same. His eyes still sparkle in that certain way.

The rest, however …

Well, Dean had told him – _many_ times – that Sam grew up big, but as he looks at the stupidly tall man in the doorway he can't help gasping in surprise. Sam clearly reached for the stars since the last time they saw each other. And by the looks of it he almost succeeded.

Castiel can't help thinking about their last moment together. Sam just a boy back then, pulling Castiel into a tight embrace as he tried to control his emotions. Both of them believed they would never meet again.

And now they're here.

Sam's grin is bright and lively when he heads straight for Castiel, completely ignoring his brother still on the ground, and goes in for a bone-crushing hug. Castiel's lungs are squeezed to the point of almost suffocation and he couldn't have been happier about it.

“Damn, it's so good to see you again, man,” Sam sighs into Castiel's shoulder. “It's been way too long.”

He's certainly right about that.

“I've missed you as well, Sam,” Castiel croaks and eventually manages to free one of his arms to pat Sam's back. “I'm glad to see you obviously ate all your vegetables and grew up tall.”

Sam laughs loudly into Castiel's ear as he pulls back. “Yeah, contrary to a certain someone I never refused my greens.”

In the corners of his eyes Castiel notices Dean pouting at the comment. “You're not as hilarious as you think, bitch.”

“Oh, I'm funny enough, jerk.”

And then both brothers are tangled in their own embrace, slapping each other on the back and whispering something underneath their breath that makes Sam chuckle and Dean scowl while a beautiful blush shows up on his cheeks.

“Okay, guys, let's get you settled in,” Sam states after he stepped back again, gesturing with his long arms at the door he came through. “We're not getting any younger here.”

Both Dean and Castiel grab their luggage and instantly follow Sam inside. At first they've been led through a small laundry room before entering a big and bright kitchen. Castiel immediately notices Dean's influence on the cabinets, making it obvious that he used his extraordinary craftsmanship on these at some point in the past and helped his brother designing the room.

It puts an instant smile on Castiel's face to see them so interwoven into each other's lives.

“So, I've got a guest room and also a pullout couch in my study,” Sam tells them as they step into the open living room area. “I wasn't sure if you guys wanna stay in one room or if you haven't reached that stage yet …”

Castiel hesitates, not really sure whether he should confide in Sam that they have been sleeping in the same bed this whole time. He's certainly not ashamed to share that information with anyone at this point, but he doesn't exactly know how Dean feels about announcing such private news.

However, he shouldn't have bothered to ponder over it because just the next second Dean shoots his brother a wide grin and states, “We'll take the guest room.”

Just like that. As though it's that easy.

Castiel feels something warm spreading within his chest at the unguarded happiness in Dean's tone and he finds himself nodding in agreement, not trusting his voice to reveal too much.

The guest room is on the first floor right across from Sam's bedroom and it's merely a simple thing, holding a queen-sized bed, nightstands on each side, a build-in closet that's hidden so well Castiel almost missed it, and a few large nature photos on the walls to make the room a bit more colorful.

“Sorry, guys,” Sam apologizes, sounding as if he had thrown them into a hideous dungeon. “I used to have a TV in here, but the stupid thing broke the other day and I haven't come around to replace it yet.”

Dean only snorts and wraps his arm around Castiel's waist. “Don't worry, Sammy, we're gonna entertain ourselves some other way.”

And then he waggles his eyebrows while Sam glowers hard at him.

Castiel can't help an exasperated sigh, suddenly feeling like he's in the presence of children again. “We will not have sex in your brother's house, Dean,” he decides strictly.

Sam chokes on air, clearly not happy about any information regarding their sexual experiences, while Dean displays his most impressive pout. “But, Cas –”

Castiel merely ignores him and turns his attention back to Sam. “We don't mind about the missing TV. I rather read a good book before sleep anyway.”

Sam keeps on glaring at his brother for a couple of moments more before he obviously decides to follow Castiel's example and simply tune Dean out. “Okay, great, that's settled then.” He smiles brightly. A bit too brightly for Castiel's taste, to be honest. “Why don't you make yourselves at home while I finish up with lunch? You can join me in the kitchen when you're finished.”

And then he's gone, leaving Dean and Castiel to their own devices.

Dean, naturally, doesn't wait around for long. “You're serious about the no-sex rule, man?”

Castiel grabs his suitcase and rolls it over to the closet. “Of course I am. Your brother was so kind to invite us here, we don't need to traumatize him.”

Dean huffs. “Trust me, he heard worse.”

Castiel throws a look over his shoulder and raises his eyebrows.

Dean finds himself blushing right away and hurries to clarify, “I mean, we shared rooms plenty of times, at road trips and such – and during puberty, when a boy goes through all those changes he spends a lot of time in the bathroom, with himself – and the walls usually aren't that thick –”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “Yes, alright, I get it.”

“I'm just saying, Sam is used to most of my sex noises by now,” Dean states, looking so proud of himself Castiel feels very sure he exaggerated the majority of those sounds in the past just to irritate his brother. “So we wouldn't scar him for life if we'd get a little frisky and bang the headboard against the wall –”

Castiel squints his eyes at him. “You're very confident for such a little shit.”

Dean's jaw goes slack at that. “Dude –”

“The image of teenage you messing with poor Sam like that surely won't get me in any mood to drop my pants anytime soon,” Castiel points out as he tries very hard to keep the amusement out of his voice. “So I'm sorry, but you will have to take your satisfaction from a good book the next few nights.”

For a moment Dean looks like his world just crumbled down, his expression so crestfallen and sad Castiel would've almost believed it. But soon enough Dean cracks and bursts into laughter, clearly giddy that they're able to joke about this topic in such a manner.

“Damn, honey, you're the best,” he announces.

And Castiel merely smiles and thinks that yes, maybe he really is.

  
  


\---

  
  


Lunch consists of mozzarella chicken with pasta and tomato sauce and Castiel has to admit it's pretty delicious. At least he's got a similar recipe he used a few times back home himself and it hasn't been nearly as tasty as Sam's variation.

So the ice is broken easily when Castiel compliments Sam's cooking and asks for his secret. Before he knows it they're swapping recipes which leads to debates about agriculture and livestock breeding and too many additivesin food nowadays before all of a sudden they drift off and start talking about their favorite books and who's the best late night host and the utter mysteries of youth slang.

And Castiel remembers once more how easy it's always been to connect with Sam. Even as a child merely ten years old he's been bright and highly interested in a lot of various subjects and Castiel found himself more often than not really inspired by their conversations. He always enjoyed just sitting down with him and conversing about anything and that obviously hadn't changed over twenty years later.

And so they talk and talk and talk over the course of the whole meal and at some point Castiel can't help feeling a little guilty because Dean is just sitting on the sidelines the whole time, entirely silent, but as he glances at the man in question he immediately notices the expression of content on Dean's face. He seems clearly happy that Sam and Castiel are so engaged with each other and doesn't seem to even consider to interrupt their “nerdy nerd talk”, as he most likely would have put it.

Castiel smiles at the sight before going back to his conversation with Sam with a good conscience.

Soon after lunch is finished and Dean eventually joins in and brings Sam up to speed about his life as well Sam finally announces, “Well, I've gotta take the dogs for a walk. You can make yourselves at home in the meantime.”

For a second Castiel daydreams about staying with Dean all alone, for at least a short period of time, and he feels a fluttering in his chest at all the possibilities. But then he looks at the excited dogs already knowing fairly well what their beloved owner is about to do and before he even knows it Castiel blurts out, “Do you mind if I'd join you?”

Castiel glimpses at Dean again, expecting to see an unhappy pout or something like that for Castiel ditching him like that, but once more he's confronted with a very happy expression. Like Castiel actually wanting to spend some time with his baby brother out of his own volition is the most wonderful thing.

“Yeah, sure,” Sam answers with a wide grin as he's already heading for the front door, pushed into the direction by two very eager dogs. “I'd love me some company.”

Ten minutes later they follow some track close to Sam's house, walking deeper into the nearby forest while the dogs happily bounce around as though they're taking this route for the very first time. At first Sam keeps them on their leashes, struggling for a bit to get the overexcited animals under control, but soon enough they've reached a vast meadow and Sam allows them some time for themselves. He's barely removed the leashes before Bones and Riot sprint ahead so fast they're out of their sight in a matter of seconds.

Castiel feels a little nervous not seeing them anymore, but Sam next to him is utterly relaxed as he calmly begins to stroll after the dogs.

“Don't worry, they're not far gone,” Sam assures him, obviously noticing Castiel's expression. “You might not see them anymore, but be certain that _they_ are still knowing exactly where you are.”

Castiel relaxes somewhat at those words. “Sorry,” he says. “I've never really interacted with dogs before. My parents were rather strict about no pets at all, Daphne was allergic and after my divorce I had my hands full with two little children. I didn't want to throw a dog on top of that as well.”

Sam chuckles. “Yeah, I get that. Dogs are great, but they're also higher maintenance than lots of other pets. You particularly need time for them. If I wouldn't be allowed to take them to the office – we have a nice garden back there – I probably would've waited until my retirement to get one. It's not fair to get yourself a dog and then leave them all alone at home for like nine, ten hours each day.”

Castiel nods in agreement and once again they find themselves in lively conversation, talking about the pro and cons of keeping certain pets, about how both Claire and Jack have begged him for a dog for years and how he's slowly starting to relent, and so on.

At some point Bones and Riot rush back to their side, obviously checking whether those slow humans are still alright and well, before running off once more. Castiel watches after them and can't help thinking it would be nice if a dog might join him on his morning runs.

“You know, Cas, I feel like I need to give you The Speech now,” Sam says after a moment of silence. “Since we're all alone now and everything.”

Castiel frowns. “The Speech?”

“Yeah, y'know –” He shrugs his shoulder while an amused grin flashes over his lips. “How I'm happy for you and Dean, but if you'd ever dare to break his heart nobody would ever be able to find your body …”

Castiel laughs. “Oh, _that_ Speech.”

“And I'm serious about this, man,” Sam emphasizes. “I'm working for the D.A. and I know a lot of cops. I could make you _disappear_ , buddy.”

“I don't doubt that for a second.”

Sam shoots him a grin. “But mainly I'm just glad you're back,” he announces, nudging Castiel's shoulder a bit too strongly, making Castiel stumble for a moment. “So I guess I'm gonna postpone any threats for later.”

“I appreciate that,” Castiel lets him know with a chuckle.

“But yeah, I mean it,” Sam says, his expression getting a bit more serious now. “I'm happy you're back. And not just for Dean's sake. I missed you, too.” He clears his throat as though some emotions are trying to get him off course. “Over the last twenty years I only found very few people with whom I could talk to like I did with you. I mean, I was _a little brat_ at the time and still had the best debates with you.”

Castiel smiles softly at the reminder. “I really enjoyed talking with you back then, too. And still do.”

“Looks like we didn't lose our touch over the years.” Sam grins widely.

And Castiel is glad to hear that. Not only because Sam is one of the most important persons in Dean's life and getting along with him would be essential for a stable relationship, but also because he seriously missed him. Sam hadn't been like most of the children his age back in the days and Castiel had enjoyed his company a great deal. And after the Winchesters eventually moved away Castiel's world suddenly turned very silent without Sam's constant stream of chatter by his side.

Castiel looks forward to rekindling their friendship again. To get into more animated discussions and perhaps send each other random thoughts via text message that only the two of them would understand while leaving everyone else puzzled behind.

“Hey, Cas?” Sam suddenly picks up his voice again.

“Yes?”

“How would you like to hear some blackmail stories about Dean for the next time my idiot of a brother decides to be an annoying dick again?”

Castiel's smile only grows at the offer.

Yes, having Sam back in his life surely has many perks.


	44. Way Too Good

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -
> 
> Hello again!
> 
> Another Tuesday, another chapter - so here we go :D
> 
> -

The next day Sam gets all kinds of fidgety, obviously quite anxious about their dinner with Eileen.

And Dean has the time of his life seeing his brother fretting all over the place. It's surely not the first time Sam got nervous about his girlfriend meeting his family and Dean always had lots of fun teasing him in the past, but this time around he notices that something is different. Sam seems unusually invested in this, not just eager to make sure his house is spotless and the food will be delicious, but also keen on prepping both Dean and Cas about the upcoming encounter.

“And don't forget,” Sam goes on, just as he finished warning them about Eileen's strawberry allergy, “when you talk to her, look straight at her. Otherwise she can't read your lips.”

Dean, so far a bit distracted by watching Bones and Riot romping around in the backyard through the kitchen window, raises his head at those words. And feels somewhat confused. “Why would she need to read our lips?”

Sam rolls his eyes, as though the question is just utterly obnoxious to begin with. “If you haven't gotten fluent in ASL without telling me, that's the best way to communicate. Granted, reading lips is not a 100%, of course, but she is pretty used to at least understanding the gist of what is being said …”

Dean narrows his eyes and can't help realizing that he's apparently been missing some vital information.

“Sam,” he says. Slowly. “Is Eileen deaf? Or hard of hearing?”

His brother only huffs. “Of course she's deaf. I've told you.”

Dean scoffs right back at him. “No, you have _not_.”

Sam puts the last of the dirty plates in the dishwasher before closing the door in a most dramatic fashion. “Oh, don't act like you don't know,” he complains. “I'm sure I mentioned it before.”

Dean simply shakes his head. “No, you didn't.”

“I've told you about that ASL class I'm taking,” Sam insists. “What did you think that was all about then –?”

Dean tilts his head. “You're a nerdy nerd. I just thought you're doing it for fun.”

Sam opens his mouth again, seemingly ready for another retort, but then he finally takes his time to process Dean's words and tries to remember their past conversations about Eileen.

In the end he merely frowns. “Damn, I think you're right.”

“Told you,” Dean points out, with all the smugness a sibling is able to muster. Which, as every sibling can attest, is _a lot_.

“I mean, I never really think about her deafness, to be honest,” Sam admits. “It's just part of who she is.”

Dean unfortunately has to confess that it's actually kinda cute and he exchanges a quick look with Cas who so far only had sipped on his tea quietly and found himself enraptured by the brothers' back and forth.

“Well, okay, _now_ you know,” Sam says with a sigh. “Better late than never.”

Dean pouts. “I actually would've liked to know a little earlier.”

“Why? It's not like it makes much of a difference.”

Dean begs to differ. “I could've learned some phrases in ASL beforehand,” he states. “Now I look like a fool who didn't put any effort into this at all.”

Sam's features soften at that. “Aww, look at you,” he coos. “You're quite adorable, you know that?”

Dean scowls harder than ever before in his life. And it only darkens even more when Cas nods in agreement, determined to confirm Sam's statement.

“You suck,” Dean growls.

“Thanks for that,” Sam replies with a dismissive wave of his hand, as though Dean's words are solely something to brush off and not be affected by. “I could teach you some phrases if you like. I don't know that much yet myself 'cause with my busy schedule I don't have all the time for the class, but I can give you the basics.” He quickly glances at Cas before adding, “Both of you.”

While Dean considers whether he should sulk a bit longer just out of principle, Cas answers, “I actually know ASL.”

That's news even to Dean who immediately forgets everything about annoying brothers. “You do?”

Cas smiles crookedly. “Well, I think I might be a little rusty,” he admits. “But I had some courses in college and I was quite good at it. Some of it might still be stuck somewhere in my brain.”

Knowing the guy he's probably still completely fluent and is just downplaying his own skills.

“Okay then,” Dean says. “Then let's try to teach an old dog like me a few new tricks.”

  
  


\---

  
  


As expected Cas is a natural talent.

For the first five minutes it's fairly obvious that he hasn't used much ASL for a long while, but soon enough his movements gets more smoothly as his memory kicks in and before they even know it his motions are so graceful that even Sam finds himself enthralled by it.

Dean, meanwhile, tries not to be too intimidated by everything as he follows the instructions both Cas and Sam are giving him. It's simple stuff, just a more elaborate hello and a few phrases that might come in handy, and even though he feels clumsy about it the entire time he forces himself to stay focused.

He realizes quickly, though, that his progress is much more effective with Sam as his teacher because he keeps on getting dangerously distracted by the way Cas' fingers move. They're long and beautiful and Dean spends more time wondering what they might do to him all over his body than actually absorbing his lessons. Cas seems to catch on at some point, probably after staring at Dean's dazed expression for one minute too long, and thankfully reacts rather amused (and also a bit smug, the bastard) when he subtly lets Sam take over the reins.

They spend most of their noon that way and next to Dean learning a few new things (about ASL as well as the fact that he _really_ wants Cas' fingers to take him apart rather sooner than later) it also has the nice side effect of keeping Sam so preoccupied that he completely forgets to be nervous about Eileen's upcoming arrival. He only remembers again when Cas eventually points out that they might need to start dinner.

For a while Sam is an anxious mess once more after that, his limbs flailing all over the place, but thanks to preparing food together and Cas distracting him with all kinds of nerdy topics he relaxes pretty fast and from then on it's just smooth sailing.

When the doorbell rings ultimately Sam even manages not to stumble over his own feet as he hastens to the door, with Dean and Cas following in amusement.

Sam already showed Dean a few pictures of Eileen over the course of the last few months, so Dean totally knows what to expect as they all train their gazes on the person on the front porch.

But nonetheless Dean takes a moment to drink it all in, blinks once, and then looks back at Sam next to her, making sure that Eileen can read his lips without any trouble.

“Dude, she's _way_ too good for you,” he tells his brother straightforward.

Sam splutters at first, but just a second later he realizes that he can't dispute Dean's argument by any means and finds himself nodding in defeat instead. “Yeah, she is.”

He doesn't sound very put out about it, though.

Eileen, meanwhile, rolls her eyes at their antics and doesn't even start any attempt to hide her smugness.

“Hi, Dean,” she says. “It's nice to meet you. Sam told me a lot about you, as soon as his cover was blown.”

“I meant to tell you about him,” Sam grumbles underneath his breath.

Eileen pats his cheek like he's a little child and Dean decides there and then that he really likes that woman.

“It's nice to meet you, too,” Dean says, signing along to his words. He knows it's far from perfect and by the way Cas snickers lowly beside him at a certain point he might have messed up a sign or two, but Eileen seems delighted he made the effort in the first place and that's all he cares about at the moment. And considering he had barely any time to prepare himself he probably didn't do half bad.

“And I'm assuming this is the boyfriend?” Eileen wonders with a smirk, glancing at Cas.

Dean can't help low-key flinching at that term because technically they haven't defined their relationship like that yet, but Cas remains completely unperturbed as he answers Eileen in perfect sign language, his motions too fast for Dean to follow.

“Sorry, I had to tell her about Cas,” Sam pipes up all of a sudden, looking a little sheepish as he most likely believes that Dean's reaction to Eileen's words had been about her general knowledge about their relationship rather than the term she used. “I promised to not say a thing, I know, but she would've caught up right away. Didn't make much sense to keep it from her.”

Sam surely does have a point in that matter and Dean doesn't hold it against him for going ahead with Eileen. It's not like he had any intention to hide his and Cas' relationship status in the first place during her visit. He's really not that sort of guy.

“Don't sweat it, man,” Dean assures him. “You trust her, I trust her.”

Easy as that.

And Sam beams in response, like this is exactly what he wanted to hear.

Soon after they gravitate towards the kitchen, only briefly intercepted in their path by Bones and Riot who excitedly demand their own turn to greet Eileen. Both appear awfully familiar with her while she in return seems to know exactly where they respectively like to be petted the most, indicating that Eileen is staying over fairly often. Of course that's not much of a surprise in the grand scheme of things, but seeing her so at home in Sam's space is really nice. After his last failed attempt of a relationship with that vet with the dead husband who wasn't actually that dead after all Sam certainly deserves something great.

And so far it seems like Eileen might fit the bill. At least Dean can't remember his brother ever looking so smitten before and it's a good look on him.

For dinner they decided on a nice little barbecue in Sam's thankfully very private backyard. Due to all the bushes and large trees Sam never really bothered to cut to keep their natural charm the garden is rather isolated against any prying eyes from the neighbors, therefore Dean has no problem walking around freely.

He ends up manning the grill because at the end of the day Sam never learned how to handle meat properly and Dean actually wants to enjoy his food, thank you very much. Despite popular belief he also knows how to do some mean roasted vegetables, he can't help pointing out as he spreads all of Sam's colorful purchases on the grill next to the meat.

For a while they just chat easily about their lives and whatever else comes to their minds. Dean already knew that Eileen teaches self-defense to women, but he had no idea that she actually co-owned the studio downtown with a friend of hers. Apparently they offer all kinds of courses there, but Eileen early on stuck on coordinating the butt-kicking part of their business. Cas seems especially intrigued by these news and soon enough tells her stories about how Claire took such a course a year before as well and quickly turned into a utterly terrifying force of nature in the process. Dean can't help a private smile as he already imagines Eileen and Claire training some moves right here in Sam's backyard.

It's surely way too early to picture such domestic family meetings with everyone gathering together, but it certainly doesn't stop Dean's mind from producing those thoughts anyway.

It doesn't take long after that for dinner to be ready to serve and they happily dig in. For a while there is just comfortable silence at the table, all of them keen on filling their empty stomachs first and having no time to focus on anything else.

But after they're finished with their first round Eileen turns her attention back to Dean and says, “I'm really glad, by the way, that you cut your time in Singapore short just to meet me here. It means a lot to me.”

Dean freezes, with a chicken wing hanging halfway in the air, and looks at her in confusion. “Um … what?”

She laughs, clearly amused by the expression on his face. “Sorry. When I knew you'd be here for the weekend I couldn't keep myself from checking out that site. _DeanWatch_ , I think it's called –”

Dean groans right away. “Oh wonderful …”

“Someone swears on the grave of their dead great-grandmother that they've seen you in Singapore,” Eileen informs him with a chuckle. “And I mean, if there are dead great-grandmothers involved, it must be true, right?”

Dean grimaces. “That site, man …”

“It's actually quite entertaining when you know where you _really_ are,” Eileen points out.

“At least they don't think you're spending your 'summer of love' with _Steve_ ,” Sam helpfully points out while winking in Cas' direction.

“I wouldn't say that,” Eileen objects. “Apparently your Singapore doppelgänger was in the company of a young, handsome man. Now your fans are quite convinced that you're on summer vacation together. Some even think it might be your honeymoon.”

Dean squeezes his eyes shut. Those rumors seriously go some odd ways sometimes …

“Our honeymoon?” Cas merely snorts at that. “No way. Dean and I have already decided that we would spend our honeymoon somewhere in the Alps. Don't get me wrong, Singapore is very nice, but it's already set in stone.”

While both Eileen and Sam stare at Cas as though they're not really sure whether he's kidding or not (and considering the fact that he sounds completely serious it's really hard to tell) Dean doesn't exactly know whether he should laugh or cry. Yeah, they have joked about it before, but it feels much more _real_ now and that might be a bit too much, all things considered.

But as the silence continues and Sam starts to glimpse at Dean, obviously on the verge of asking if one of them popped the question already, Dean heaves a deep sigh and decides to play along for now, conflicting feelings aside. “Well, _you_ decided on the Alps. I can't remember agreeing to it.”

Cas shoots him a smirk. “Oh, don't worry, I will get you to agree.”

While Dean refuses to blush at the indication Sam and Eileen relax again, catching up on their playful tone now.

“The Alps, huh?” Eileen joins in a second later. “It's a huge area. Do you have anywhere particular in mind?”

Cas shrugs. “Somewhere secluded would be best.”

As Eileen and Cas continue to discuss the issue as if it's actual reality and not just joking around, Dean notices Sam staring at him with the widest shit-eating grin Dean has ever seen on that jerk's face and he reacts in the most mature way two siblings are designed to communicate: by sticking his tongue out like a three-year-old.

Sam laughs and looks ready to retaliate, but then Eileen suddenly stops her stream of words to drop a soft kiss onto Sam's cheek and the guy flushes spectacularly in the process.

And when she immediately sends Dean a look and signs, _“You're welcome”_ , Dean just knows that he wouldn't mind her officially becoming part of their family someday.

  
  


\---

  
  


Dean curses his past self for being so lazy and forgetful not to close the curtains the night before as he's suddenly hit with the most powerful ray of sun way too early in the morning.

He groans and buries his face deep into the pillow, but he already knows the damage is done. His senses slowly wake up, one at a time, and before he can do anything about it he's attacked from all sides.

He hears someone walking through the hallway outside, he hears the dogs shuffling around nearby, he smells the scent of coffee floating through the air. And he feels two strong arm wrapped around him from behind.

The latter, naturally, makes him smile despite the early hour. Cas is plastered all over his back and apparently still fast asleep. At least he doesn't stir one bit, just clasping on and breathing into Dean's neck.

And so Dean stays like that for a long while. At some point he gets rather hot, the sun blasting into their room full force now not making it any better. Also his arm is starting to get numb in a quite uncomfortable manner, pain shooting through his body.

But nonetheless he keeps still because having Cas like this is still preferable to anything else.

Instead he just enjoys the sensation of being held and thinks back to the night before. How they all talked for ages and eventually switched over to playing some board games. How Cas turned out to be quite the strategist and smashed them all, his smug look so sexy Dean couldn't help yanking him into a not really PG-rated kiss, much to Sam's dismay and Eileen's delight. How they eventually settled for the night, happy and exhausted, and basically dropped dead as soon as their heads hit the pillows.

Yeah, it was really nice.

Dean actually might get used to something like this.

And so he keeps on lying there, wide awake and savors all the memories. It felt so natural and normal that it actually got rather easy to forget that his life hasn't been normal in a long time.

“Dean?” a slurred voice suddenly whispers into his ear, sounding quite disorientated.

Dean doesn't hesitate even a second to turn around in Cas' arms and find himself face to face with big, blue eyes. Cas' brain clearly has some trouble catching on and he looks all kinds of bleary and grumpy about it, like a petulant child not sure what is going on and super unhappy about that.

Dean can't help a smile because it might be the cutest thing he has ever seen. “Morning, sunshine.”

Cas' grimace only intensifies. Dean's cheerful attitude is obviously not well received.

“Did you have a beer too much last night?” Dean teases.

Cas grumbles deep in his throat. “I'm not hungover …” he mutters.

“Are you sure about that?” Dean wonders. “Because your face tells a different story –”

Cas makes a very displeased sound and buries his face into Dean's neck. “Quiet,” he orders, no objections allowed.

They stay like that for a while, Cas tuning out the world around him while Dean gently runs his fingers through the guy's hair. It's quiet all around and Dean already starts to wonder if they just should remain in bed the whole day. It's Sunday, after all, and the last free day they have for themselves before Cas would have to return back home on Monday, so …

“Are you thinking about tomorrow?” Cas suddenly breaks the silence and once more demonstrates his uncanny ability to read Dean's mind.

Dean heaves a deep sigh. “Let's forget Monday even exists, alright? It's just depressing …”

Cas finally draws back a bit to look Dean straight into the eyes. “So you want to pretend this Sunday will last forever and ever?”

Dean shoots him a lopsided smirk. “Sounds perfect to me, don't you think?”

When Cas hums approvingly Dean is unable to not lean in for a kiss. He keeps it close-lipped, because morning breath and all that, but it nonetheless sends a shiver down his spine.

“An eternal Sunday,” Cas whispers. “The dream of many people …”

Dean smiles and dives in for another kiss.

But their lips barely graze before Cas' phone on the beside table all of a sudden goes off, making both men freeze right where they are. Dean can't help a low groan and on instinct he wants to tell Cas to ignore it and get back to the action again, but he knows right away that as a father Cas can't just dismiss a ringing phone without checking who it is first.

So Dean refrains from complaining as Cas disentangles himself and glances at the screen to determine the caller's ID.

“It's my mother,” he says a second later, clear exasperation in his voice. “She probably wants to talk about the details of my father's birthday. _Again_.”

Just in the blink of an eye later he's back in Dean's arms. “We can ignore it,” he decides, pressing his lips against Dean's once more.

And so they go back to fooling around, the kisses getting deeper and more sensual while they tangle their limbs with each other, making it absolutely impossible to see where one ends and the other one begins. Soon there is not an inch of space between them left and as Dean finds himself on his back, pinned to the mattress, his entire body gets highly intrigued by the events.

He's just on the verge of wondering if he might be able to shatter Cas' no-sex rule after all when the phone suddenly rings again.

This time Dean doesn't even try to keep his moan quiet.

“What the hell, man?” he grumbles, seriously not in the mood for any more interruptions. “Why do you have to get so popular _now_ of all times?”

Cas shoots him an apologetic look and heaves himself up to reach for his phone. His expression, however, changes quite abruptly.

“It's my mother again,” he explains, a frown on his forehead. “That's odd …”

And yeah, Dean has to admit, if his mom would call him twice in a matter of minutes he would find himself alarmed as well.

Cas at least doesn't wait around and accepts the call quickly, obviously eager for some answers. “Mother, what is it?” he comes straight to the point, worry wavering in his voice as he's probably already imagining the worst scenarios in his head.

“Oh, Castiel, don't worry, nobody is dead or close to dying,” Castiel's mother states right away, interpreting her son's tone correctly immediately. “That's not why I'm calling.”

Dean finds himself confused at first why he's understanding her so perfectly as though she's standing right next to him and it takes him a moment to realize that Cas most likely pushed the loudspeaker button by mistake in his hurry to answer the call. He tries to point it out to Cas via hand gestures so he could give himself and his mom some privacy again, but Cas doesn't even glimpse in his direction, too focused on his mother and her reasoning for the call that he tunes out everything else.

“Then what is it?” Castiel urges. “It's not about Father's birthday again, is it? Because I'm pretty busy and I told you I would get back to you later –”

“No, this is not about your father either,” his mother objects. “This is about a young man showing up at our doorstep this morning and asking questions about you.”

Dean who attempted to discreetly withdraw from the situation to not listen to a private conversation can't help freezing at her words. It doesn't sound highly alarming at first glance, but a certain note in her voice instantly lets dread creep up on Dean.

“What do you mean?” Cas asks, his forehead crinkled in puzzlement. “Why would someone show up at your place for me? I haven't lived there for a very long time.”

“I was rather confused of that myself at first,” his mother answers. “But then the man told me he found out that Dean Winchester used to live in the neighborhood – you remember the boy? I think he's some kind of actor now –”

Cas' eyes widen in shock at her words and his gaze instantly finds Dean's who's sitting on the bed's edge and feels his heart pounding like crazy.

“Well, apparently this is about that Winchester boy,” Mrs. Novak goes on with a huff. “The man introduced himself as a reporter and got very curious about you, wanted to know if you were friends with that Dean back in the days …”

While she rambles on and complains about that dude's lack of propriety, bothering them way too early on a Sunday morning, Dean notices a panic attack coming his way.

Shit, shit, _shit_!

It seems the press has evidently caught up to them.

_FUCK_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're very welcome for the cliffhanger 😘


	45. Exposed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my friends!!
> 
> Another Tuesday, another chapter and another reason for you to curse my name 😆
> 
> Have fun!
> 
> -

For a very long minute (or maybe hours?) Castiel simply stares ahead vacantly and tries not to have a heart attack.

In the back of his mind he always knew that this day might come, that everything would be exposed and laid out open for the media to rummage through it greedily. He told himself over and over that he would be ready if the moment would arise.

But now, as it is actually happening, he feels shocked. Numb.

He got too comfortable in their little bubble, too comfortable imaging that what they have is normal. At least normal in the sense that they just could walk outside hand in hand and nobody would turn their heads because they're just regular people doing regular things.

But it's not that way. One of them is a popular movie star and the other one the mysterious childhood crush everyone wants to know everything about. And Castiel should never have allowed himself to forget that.

But of course it's been so easy the last few weeks. Just him and Dean, in the middle of nowhere. Where no one could reach them.

And now it feels extra painful to see this crumbling down.

At some point Castiel vaguely registers his mother still talking and he forces himself to listen in, to not drown in his own panic or even look at Dean's pale face. No, for now he needs to stay rational. They have to keep a cool head or otherwise they will be lost.

“Mother,” Castiel cuts right into her ongoing chatter, not giving a damn as she makes that displeased sound Castiel has been hating his whole life, “did you tell that man anything? Did you answer any of his questions?”

She scoffs, clearly insulted by Castiel's insinuation. “Who do you take me for? I told him I had no idea what he's even talking about. That I've lived in this very house for almost forty years now and that there has never lived someone named Winchester in the neighborhood. And then I told him to get off my property or I would sue his ass till next Sunday.”

Castiel lets out a breath of relief. Of course he never assumed his mother would tell the whole story to a guy who randomly showed up on her doorstep, but she has always been an unpredictable woman from time to time and with her you just never really know.

“Thank you, Mother,” Castiel says.

“Oh, I didn't do it just for you,” she waves him off. “I mean, do you think I want all those reporters on my lawn eager for the new headline? Your father spent lots of time and love in that front yard, he'd be furious.”

Castiel nods along with her. His father would indeed be beyond mad if anything would happen to his hard work.

“Just – please don't say anything,” Castiel emphasizes.

His mother stays silent for a while and Castiel feels like a kid again, quietly assessed by her.

“I don't really know what is going on because I don't follow all that glittery media …” she says, almost carefully, as though she sees the need to be cautious with her phrasing, “… but I heard that Winchester boy's name a few times and I'm aware that he is some huge name now. And that everyone associated with him gets dragged into the spotlight right along with him.”

Castiel notices a little gasp next to him and realizes it's been Dean, flinching at those words. Castiel reaches out to him, wants to soothe him in some manner, but Dean draws back instantly, apparently not open to any reassurances.

And before Castiel is able to do or say anything Dean leaps to his feet, grabs his phone from the nightstand and leaves the room, most likely about to inform Benny about what is happening right now.

Castiel feels something tightening in his chest as he watches Dean's retreating back.

The urge to walk after him and make sure that he's okay is blossoming very strongly within Castiel, but before he's allowed to hang up the phone and hurry after Dean he needs to clarify some things first.

“Mother, did that man seem to know exactly where the Winchesters used to live?” Castiel asks. “Or was he just asking around in the neighborhood?”

“Well, after he paid us a visit he went right over to the next house,” she explains. “So for me it looks like he's asking around.”

Well, that's a little flicker of hope, at least.

Granted, that man clearly did his homework considering he knew Castiel's name and it actually might take him no time at all until he would find someone actually remembering in what house the Winchester family used to live, but it's at least a tiny bit relieving that he doesn't have the whole story yet.

It's not much, but for now Castiel is determined to cling onto that.

“Okay, that's good …” he mutters, more to himself than anyone else.

“Castiel, what is going on here?” his mother demands to know, her tone both concerned and condescending. Like she isn't really sure whether to blame her son or protect him from whatever is happening.

Castiel takes a deep breath. “Mother –”

“And don't lie to me,” she cuts him off, probably even with a raised finger and everything. “Because you don't sound surprised about any of this.”

Naturally Castiel can't exactly deny that. “Well, yes, I'm not really …”

“So what is it?” she urges. “Did that Winchester boy get you into trouble again? Even after all this time?”

Despite the situation Castiel can't help pulling a face. “Dean never got me into any trouble –”

His mother snorts, clearly having a completely different opinion about that matter. Thankfully, though, she is way too busy focusing on the reporter right now to reminisce about old times and drops the subject right away. “Just tell me what's happening, Castiel.”

Castiel considers shrugging her off, but then again the chance of that reporter showing up at her house once more isn't slim and he seriously doesn't want her to stay in the dark much longer. Because that's how things unintentionally slip out that should've been kept hidden.

“There is a story going around … about Dean's childhood and an old crush …” Castiel explains, trying nonetheless to stay as vaguely as possible. “I'm sure you heard about it in passing. At least the media is all over it and is pretty determined to dig up everything about Dean's past now …”

His mother hums in understanding. “Which includes those few months he was our neighbor,” she summarizes.

Castiel sighs. “Yes.”

She falls silent again.

For a long while.

And it's absolutely excruciating.

Because his mother's silences feel like little needle pricks covering your entire body. It's not exactly painful, but it's a weird and rather uncomfortable situation you just desperately want to escape at all costs.

So in the end it's almost a relief when she asks, “ _Are_ you the one they're looking for? Or did that reporter just ring the wrong doorbell?”

Castiel bites on his bottom lip. At first he contemplates dismissing her question and lying through his teeth because this whole story is way too big and complex to explain it right now. And his mother _would_ demand an explanation, no doubt about that.

But just as he opens his mouth Castiel senses resistance growing inside of him. He never had the best relationship with his parents, that's certainly true, but even the mere thought of lying straight to their faces doesn't sit well with him. It's wrong, on many levels.

Not to mention the fact that he would have to tell them the truth about Dean sooner or later anyway, at least if he's keen on keeping him in his life for a long time. And since Castiel is _very_ eager to have Dean at his side lying to his parents about it would only backfire and bring him a lot of grief at some point in the future.

So evidently he answers truthfully, “Yes.”

His mother inhales deeply.

“Castiel –”

“I will explain everything later, okay?” Castiel interrupts, the prospect of spending the next half hour telling her the entire story while Dean is somewhere else in the house, probably freaking out, way too much for him to handle. “I _promise_ you –”

“Castiel –”

“If you're so interested just google _Mystery Crush_ and _Steve_ , that will give you the basics,” Castiel suggests. “After that we can talk.”

“I don't understand –”

“Please, _Mom_ ,” Castiel states. “Just – I have something important to do right now. I'll call you back.”

And before she has a chance to ask further questions Castiel hangs up on her, scrambles out of bed and follows Dean as fast as his legs allow. It doesn't take long for him to locate the man in the living room, pacing back and forth like a caged animal while animatedly talking with someone on the phone. He looks rumpled and on edge and only his still slightly kiss swollen lips remind Castiel that not much time has passed actually since they've been happy and carefree.

It's almost scary how fast things can change for the worse.

Castiel stares at Dean and can't help feeling overwhelmed. Part of himself deems it a truly great idea to just smash the cell out of Dean's hands and tell him that everything will be alright. Another side, however, just wants to crawl underneath some covers and wait for Dean and his team to sort everything out and make it go away for good.

Castiel chews on his bottom lip, undecided, and needs another minute to notice Sam actually being in the same room as well, simply sitting on the couch's armrest and glancing back and forth between his brother and Castiel. He appears rather tense, even though his expression is guarded. Almost as if he's trying his best to look calm and collected, for Dean's sake.

Castiel, unsure what to do next, focuses at first on the fact that Eileen is nowhere to be seen. For a moment he considers that she still might be asleep or perhaps allowed the family some privacy, retreating into the background to give them space. It takes another minute for Castiel to remember how she mentioned the evening before that she had to leave early on Sunday for some family business. It surely didn't stop her from drinking them all under the table and go to bed pretty late, though, but considering the fact she indeed got out of the house on time she obviously knows her limits.

“Okay, I have to go to New York,” Dean suddenly announces, his voice breaking through the strained silence as he finally ends the phone call. “We have to suffocate this things before it spreads.”

Castiel doesn't have a real idea how he's supposed to feel right now about all of this, but he knows very well that the thought of Dean leaving is a fairly unpleasant one.

“Dean –” he starts, not sure what he wants to say, but unable to keep silent.

Dean shoots him a smile that is far from convincing. “Don't worry, Cas. Everything will be fine.”

He sounds like he doesn't believe that himself, but is desperate to voice it out loud anyway, for both their sake. To pretend for at least a while before everything might crush down around them.

“Wouldn't it be suspicious for you to rush to New York all of a sudden?” Sam, in the meantime, can't help wondering. “I mean, considering you technically don't know about that reporter showing up at Cas' parents' house. 'Cause technically you don't know Cas and shouldn't be aware about any of this in the first place –”

It's a good argument, Castiel has to admit. Him showing up at New York right after all of this might appear conspicuous.

Dean, however, waves him off. “I meant to drive to New York anyway after dropping Cas off at the airport. I've got a couple of appointments there in the next week. Nobody will bat an eye if I'd pop by a day earlier.” Once again, he sounds as if he wants to convince himself more than anything else. “Besides, Benny is just reaching out to your parents, Cas. For the official statement it was of course your mom who called Benny's office to complain about this guy showing up at her doorstep and asking weird questions about her only son. Like a mother would do to keep her kid out of the press …”

Unfortunately Castiel has to confess that this doesn't seem unlikely in the least. His mother has been an attorney for a very long time now and she knows quite well that such things might get out of control if you just let them be. So her calling Benny's office and threatening to sue everyone and their children and grandchildren if ugly lies might be distributed about her son is a fairly believable scenario.

And yet …

“Why do you have to go to New York for that?” Castiel urges. “Let Benny and his people handle this, it's their job –”

“I just _have_ to be there, okay?” Dean insists. With a rather odd waver in his voice.

Castiel can't help glancing at Sam who for his part is looking at his brother with a fairly sad expression. As though there is way more to Dean's reaction to this than meets the eye.

“For now you should stay here,” Dean says. “School doesn't start for another week, right?”

Castiel frowns. “You don't want me to fly home tomorrow?”

“We need to determine first how far this already spread, okay?” Dean points out, his attention still fixed on his phone while he simultaneously types a text to someone. Most likely Benny or Charlie. “There might be reporters already waiting for you in Lawrence.”

Castiel actually didn't even consider this, but now he can't help wincing at the image.

“Mother said … it seemed the reporter didn't really know where you used to live,” he explains, feeling a bit like he's grasping at straws now. “He was just asking around …”

“But he knew your name,” Dean points out. “Yeah, he probably knows the names of every boy who lived on that frigging street during that time, but still – you're on their list …”

That doesn't sound pleasant.

“So it'd be better if you'd stay here,” Dean adds. “Just for a while longer.”

“But – Claire and Jack …” is all Castiel can think about in that moment.

“Their flight is meant to land on Tuesday, right?” Dean presses his lips into a thin line. “To be safe we should redirect them here as well. At least for a few days, until we'll get a good grip on the situation.”

Castiel is fairly sure that at least Claire will be far from thrilled to miss out on the last free week before school to spend time with Kaia, but Dean makes some very good points. It might be worth the potential patricide.

“You can stay here in town,” Dean continues. “There are bunch of nice hotels around here, I will pay for everything. Or you can drive back to my house in Clarksville if you want –”

“They can stay here,” Sam cuts right in. Turning towards Castiel he adds, “I mean, I wouldn't mind. I've got the space and it would be the least hassle.”

Dean throws his brother a grateful look.

Castiel, in the meantime, sighs deeply. “Dean …”

“Just talk to the kids and Daphne,” Dean says. “And I'm gonna talk to Benny, he'll arrange everything. Even first class for the two munchkins …”

He smiles and it doesn't reach his eyes.

Not even close.

Castiel watches Dean while he talks and sends text messages and fidgets around, all at the same time, and concern starts to grip him tightly. He remembers how similar Dean reacted when those bodyguard pictures showed up and he got so worried about Castiel's privacy that he almost talked himself out of a deeper relationship with him. Like he is poison, infecting everyone he touches, and it would be better to stay far away from him.

Castiel hates to see him this way. More than anything.

And so he grabs Dean by the arm and softly nudges him toward a quiet corner in the living room.

“Dean,” he whispers gently, cupping the man's cheek. “I would ask you if you're alright, but that would be a stupid question to begin with.”

Dean scoffs at that. While still not looking straight at Castiel.

“Dean –”

“I'm _fine_ , Cas!” Dean tries to reassure him. “We'll get this under control –”

“Right now I'm more worried about you –”

“There is nothing to worry about, dude.”

Castiel rubs his thumbs tenderly over the skin right beneath Dean's eyes and despite him obviously trying to fight it Dean can't help leaning into the touch.

For just a second.

Then he flinches backwards, as though to chide himself, and announces, “I need to pack my stuff. For, um, for New York.”

And then he leaps up the stairs in record speed and Castiel just helplessly watches after him as something in his chest churns so painfully it almost brings tears to his eyes. Something bad is happening right now and it's not the possibility of ending up exposed as the _Mystery Crush_ in front of everyone.

Castiel heaves a deep sigh and for a moment doesn't know what to do. Stay here and wait for Dean to return? Walk back to the living room to Sam and have to endure his probably pitying looks? Follow Dean and try harder to make him see sense?

Before he's able to make up his mind, though, Dean is back downstairs again. Due to the fact that he had left most of his stuff in his duffle bag anyway before, collecting all his possessions apparently didn't take very long.

Castiel stares at him halting at the bottom of the stairs, the atmosphere between them charged and tense in a way it's never has been before.

And after a long moment of consideration Dean suddenly steps up to Castiel, invading his personal space in such a manner it almost takes Castiel's breath away.

“Okay, Cas, I _promise_ you I'll do everything to see this sorted out,” Dean swears. “And I'm sorry, for all of this –”

“It's not your fault,” Castiel interrupts right away, hating to see Dean blaming himself for that.

Dean, however, merely snorts. “Of course it is. I got too carried away in that stupid interview – if I just would've kept it more vague or whatever, if I just never would've mentioned my age or that you've been the neighbor's kid or –”

“Dean,” Castiel cuts in once more, afraid Dean might talk himself into a frenzy. “We can't change the past. And no matter what, I'm still grateful the interview happened.”

Dean attempts to smile at that, but he seems to struggle a great deal.

“I just – I'm gonna make this right, don't you worry,” he promises solemnly. “Whatever it takes.”

Somehow Castiel doesn't like the sound of that.

But he doesn't get an opportunity to dig deeper into this since Dean all of a sudden gazes deeply into his eyes, so many emotions flickering over his features, and then leans in to connect their lips.

The kiss is soft at first, but soon enough it gets sensual and lingering. Dean puts all into it like he wouldn't get another chance to do so.

Like he believes this might very well be their last kiss and he has to get everything out of it.

And when he eventually pulls back and whispers, “I'll keep in touch” with an unsteady tone Castiel barely manages to take a deep breath before Dean is suddenly gone.

Out of the door without another word.

And Castiel can't shake off this very gloomy sensation growing inside of him.

  
  


\---

  
  


For the next few hours Castiel barely does anything at all beside trying to distract himself with a book and ending up rereading the same page over and over again because he's unable to concentrate.

As soon as he achieves to somehow grip the plot once more his eyes wander automatically to his phone next to him. Most of the time just waiting for a message from Dean – apart from a quick status update a while ago about his travel to New York nothing has arrived so far – and sometimes searching the internet and fearing that he might find his name as a headline somewhere.

Yes, it's quite hard to focus on anything but that right now.

For the most part Sam left him alone, obviously realizing that Castiel needed some space to process everything, but eventually he's unable to hold himself back anymore and sits down on the armchair across from the couch. He offers Castiel a small smile and slides a cup of something hot that suspiciously smells like chamomile tea over the coffee table between them in his direction.

Castiel, up until this point incapable of stomaching anything, takes it gratefully and allows himself a few sips.

“I know how you feel,” Sam says after a while. “Wondering if your name might show up in the press the very next minute and your life as you know it would be over.”

Castiel grimaces. Of course, as Dean's brother he's been going through this since Dean's fame went through the roof. Dean always kept Sam's name out of the media and barely mentioned the existence of a sibling to begin with, but it must always be a battle. All it needs is just one reporter a bit more curious about Dean's family than anybody else before and everything might collapse.

“Dean and I even share the same last name which doesn't make the situation any easier,” Sam continues. “Dean's beating himself up for years now that he didn't consider taking up a pseudonym.”

Castiel sighs. Dean tends to shoulder a lot of guilt and doesn't listen when people around him tell him repeatedly it's not his fault.

“I mean, I don't blame him,” Sam explains. “Back when he started he never even expected in his wildest dreams that he might get so stupidly famous someday. And then it suddenly happened more or less over night and he didn't have any chance to quickly change his name or whatever. The damage was done.”

Sam shrugs. Like at the end of the day it's not a big deal.

“I'm used to it by now,” he says. “Used to people grinning in that annoying way when they hear my surname for the first time. People asking me, “like the actor?” I'm used to keeping my private life out of the web and just being careful about a lot of things.” He leans back in his armchair, suddenly a wistful expression on his face. “I know, one day it might be over nonetheless. Someone might track me down and the whole world will know about me. That's just the way it is.”

Castiel presses his lips into a thin line.

“Dean seems pretty freaked out that this might happen to me, too,” he states, his voice low as he recalls the expression on Dean's face. Over and over and over.

“With you it's even worse,” Sam points out. “I mean, Dean and I share blood, there is nothing we can do about it. But you? You're only on the media's radar because Dean couldn't keep his mouth shut in that interview and he's blaming himself an awful lot for that.”

Castiel surely isn't surprised to hear that. “He's an idiot,” he huffs. “It's not like he did any of this on purpose.”

Sam sighs. “But you know the guy. He's convinced that without him you wouldn't be in this situation. And sure, technically he's right about that, but he's got the tendency to take a step further and think that without him in your life you would be better off. That everything would be simpler for you if he'd be out of the picture.”

Castiel feels something painful blossom in his chest at those words. Of course it's not news to him, not even by a long shot, but to actually hear it spoken out loud like this by another person puts some significant weight onto it.

“Do you think he might break up with me?” Castiel whispers, finally asking the question that he's been dreading to even think about since Dean rushed out of the door. “To keep me safe or whatever might be going on his head?”

Sam stays silent for a while and the fact that he doesn't hurry to give Castiel a quick and straight answer doesn't bode well.

And then he suddenly asks, “Did he ever tell you what happened with Lisa?”

Castiel blinks in confusion.

He expected many things, but this certainly hasn't been one of it.

“Lisa?” he wonders. “What about her?”

So far they hadn't really talked about her. Dean merely mentioned her from time to time, in passing, like a very old memory he barely had any connection with anymore.

Of course Castiel caught a few things over the years because the media never had been tired to report about the couple. Lisa was an actress as well, therefore their relationship ended up rather public since day one. Apparently they met at some fundraiser and the sparks between them were so obvious anyone caught up on it, including the press.

Castiel doesn't know much about what happened afterwards. He's aware that they had been a couple for almost a year and everyone was speculating when the wedding bells would ring for both of them. But instead of married bliss they abruptly announced their breakup to the stunned media, baffling the whole nation and setting the rumor mills into full speed.

Castiel has no idea what really occurred. And so far he never bothered Dean about it, figuring that the man would open up when he'd be ready for it.

Now, however, Castiel can't help becoming rather intrigued …

“Their separation wasn't as sudden as the papers might believe,” Sam explains. “They had problems for months at that point already. They were just used to hiding all that behind fake smiles for public appearance.” Sam cocks his head. “I guess at the end of the day it just wasn't big love, you know? Lisa is amazing and Dean will tell you the same, over and over, but after their honeymoon phase they never really clicked as a couple. I think Dean realized very soon the whole thing wasn't for the long run. But for a while he still stayed with her, trying to make it work and everything. But if you ask me, he mostly did it for Ben.”

Castiel perks up at that. Naturally Dean had told him about Ben, Lisa's son who had been around eleven years old when he used to date the boy's mother. Even today he's still in close contact with Ben and Castiel always loves to see Dean's eyes light up when he tells stories about their time together. Ben has been the first glimpse of fatherhood Dean has ever gotten, even though he would wave off anyone who would claim that and just argue that he's only a good friend to Ben and nothing more.

“What really broke things off between Dean and Lisa, though, was the night that paparazzo climbed a tree right at Ben's room and shot pictures through the window,” Sam tells him, contorting his features at the reminder.

Castiel's eyes, meanwhile, grow wide in shock. “ _What_?”

“Can you even imagine?” Sam shakes his head in disgust. “Ben was just a kid. _Still_ is a kid. He woke up by the noises and naturally freaked out like crazy at the strange man basically pressing his face against Ben's window.”

Castiel feels sick all of a sudden. How could anyone do such a thing?

“Dean kept it mostly out of the press, to not further traumatize Ben and make him the center of attention,” Sam continues. “At least the guy got convicted and everything, but of course the damage was done. Lisa had already been growing more and more uneasy by all the paparazzi following her around because of Dean and that incident put the final nail in the coffin. She broke up with him more or less right away. And Dean didn't blame her one bit for it.”

Castiel takes a deep breath and doesn't even attempt to imagine how Dean must have felt during that time.

“And of course, with you in the picture now,” Sam says with a heavy sigh, “Dean is terrified it might happen again.”

Castiel doesn't even know what to say.

Naturally he knew that Dean's life isn't easy by any means, but he certainly didn't anticipate anything like this.

“It's only due to Ben's insistence that Dean is still in contact with him,” Sam explains. “I'm pretty sure otherwise Lisa would have broken off everything completely after that. She's always been very protective of her son.”

Castiel definitely can relate. Keeping your children safe, no matter the costs, comes second nature to parents.

“And now, with me …” he whispers, lowering his gaze, “Dean is reliving this all over again.”

Castiel remembers the moment right before their first kiss, back at the picnic next to the pond. How agitated Dean had been about those blurry pictures of Castiel showing up on the internet, how animated he's been to talk Castiel out of any romantic relationship because everything might be turned upside down by one tiny mistake …

Castiel had seen the battle inside of Dean very clearly. And even though Dean relented in the end, too overcome by his feelings to just ignore this growing thing between them, Castiel still sometimes noticed it glinting in his eyes since then. Pushed into the background, but not forgotten.

Sam nods, meanwhile. “I guess he's kinda reliving it again, yeah. He's never outright said anything to me, but I know Dean. I wouldn't be surprised if he's afraid you might grow to resent him over time with the paparazzi following you around constantly. And that one day some other nutjob might show up at your children's window deep in the night.”

Castiel's thoughts immediately go to Claire and Jack as his insides churn painfully.

“You mean a lot to Dean,” Sam says. “And I know he cares about your kids a great deal, too. So if he thinks he might be able to avoid a repeat performance of that Lisa fiasco by cutting himself out of the equation …”

Sam trails off and refrains from finishing the sentence, but he seriously doesn't need to.

Castiel understands the sentiment perfectly fine.


	46. Frenzy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -
> 
> *waves at you excitedly*
> 
> You're ready for Dean's POV?
> 
> Have fun :D
> 
> -

Dean's never been the biggest fan of New York and right now it seems even grayer than usual as he looks down on it through the windows of one of Benny's offices.

Everyone is running about, all busy, not even caring about the rain falling down on them as they hurry to their next appointment, their stress radiating through the air and intermingling with all the anxiety already floating around. Dean always tried to ignore it and put on a happy face for the press and his fans, but this time around it's starting to gnaw on his bones, making him all kinds of jittery himself.

He's been in the city about a day now and it feels like forever at this point. He was unable to do anything else but sit on the sidelines and watch Benny and Charlie work their magic. Throwing different ideas how to handle this situation back and forth while Dean glanced at his phone every few minutes, wondering if he might find Cas' name in the headlines next.

So far everything remained quiet, but that could change any second now.

At one point Charlie took off to “check with her secret sources” and Benny and his team put lots of effort into finding the reporter that showed up at the Novaks' place. It actually didn't take long for him to narrow it down to a journalist named Fergus Crowley who recently started his own tabloid paper a while ago.

Dean recognized the name after a bit of pondering and learned soon enough that the man was definitely known for using some shady methods to get to his stories. Therefore it was easy to see him maneuvering sketchy territory to dig up classified information.

The urge to drive over to their office and put the fear of God into every single one who works there was actually so strong that Dean for a while considered to ask Benny to lock him up, just to be safe. Rationally he knew it would've been a seriously bad move to react too emotionally about this because at the end of the day it would've only confirmed those reporters' suspicions, but Dean always tends not to be all that reasonable when his loved ones are involved.

Thankfully, though, Benny kept a cool head and stayed patient. He waited until Monday morning to almost casually inform Crowley that he got several phone calls from concerned parents (not just the Novaks) about a reporter asking uncomfortable questions about their sons and their alleged relations with Dean Winchester. Benny remained calm the entire time, even as Crowley seemed to get a bit nasty about it, and just nonchalantly mentioned that those people were already talking about legal actions.

Benny surely showed some acting skills, sounding exactly like someone who wasn't thrilled in the slightest that he's got more work on his plate he didn't ask for. Like this was an inconvenience and he seriously didn't understand why Crowley even had started bothering these people in the first place. He definitely seemed like he had no connection with any of them whatsoever and deemed Crowley quite stupid for poking the wrong bears.

It was a nice show and Crowley actually appeared to buy it for the time being, at least according to Benny. But they also knew right away that Crowley must have some information about Dean's past and without them really knowing what exactly that is they're still staggering on thin ice.

And that is where Charlie comes back into the game.

It's close to noon when she, without any preamble, barges into the office Dean is standing all alone, apparently more than ready to get her boss up to speed.

“So what do you got?” Dean urges immediately, not having any time for pleasantries.

Charlie, thankfully, doesn't seem to hold his lack of manners against him under the current circumstances.

“Well, good news first: they don't have definite proof that Cas is your one true love,” she tells him while totally ignoring Dean rolling his eyes impressively at her phrasing. “They only know that you used to live on Harrison Street at that time and Cas fits the profile. That's why that Crowley fella showed up at the Novaks'.”

Dean isn't really sure whether he should feel relieved about that or not. “So they only know the street name?”

“Apparently one of your old classmates couldn't keep his mouth shut,” Charlie says with a scoff. “Remind me to send him some ugly virus onto his computer later.”

Dean can't help a little smile before he settles his expression into something more disapproving again, at least for appearance's sake. “Charlie –” he chides her.

Even though, deep down, he'd love to see the guy responsible for all of this pay in some way too.

For a moment he wonders who it could have been, but he abandons that train of thought rather quickly again. He barely remembers any classmates from that time and the few that pop up in his head might very well be from some other high school he used to visit. After moving around so often people begin to mash and he finds himself having a very hard time placing them.

So yeah, Dean most likely doesn't remember the guy anyway. So why bother wracking his brains over it?

“Okay, fine, no computer viruses,” Charlie relents with a heavy sigh. “Well, thankfully that little rat only knew the street where you lived back then. You probably mentioned it once in passing or whatever. It's of course a start for all those greedy journalists, but it only makes Cas a suspect for now, not a definite candidate.”

It's still way too close for Dean's taste.

_Way_ too close.

“Thankfully you and Cas didn't go to the same school, so there is no direct connection first,” Charlie continues. “And even though your old road is not as long as it could've been there still lived a couple of other boys at the time fitting the profile. Also you didn't mention Cas' age in the interview which doesn't make it any easier for the media to narrow it down. Which is, of course, good for us. They don't know if they're looking for someone your age or someone older. Hell, perhaps even someone just on the way to college or whatever. I mean, it's not uncommon for young teenagers to crush on older guys, right? Thankfully you never specified it in the interview. 'Boy from next door' can mean a bunch of things.”

Well, Dean is certainly grateful that his past self managed to stay vague about at least a few things. It doesn't make it much better, but it's something.

“So yeah, our biggest concern for now is that the press might actually find your former house,” Charlie states. “Because then Cas will most definitely become their prime suspect, I'm sure.”

Dean grimaces and tries not to think of that possibility.

“So what do you suggest?” he asks, his voice low.

“Well, the press is still fishing around,” Charlie says. “Cas' mother never confirmed that she even knows who you are. And there's been lots of change in the neighborhood. Some moved, some died, some were probably way too busy with their own problems to even remember the family's name who used to live in that particular house over twenty years ago for a couple of months. Furthermore, there were actually lots of Air Force folks around in that neighborhood and most of them didn't stay for long either. Much of change in that area all around and I assume it would be hard to keep track for the permanent residents over all these years.” She cocks her head and studies Dean intently. “Also, it's really convenient that you used to be such an antisocial butterfly back in the days. No real contact with the neighbors, apart from Cas, no BFF's at school or whatever …”

Dean pulls a face. When they moved in next to Cas he already knew that their stay would be a rather temporary one. So he never bothered to make any real connections.

Cas was the only exception at the time. Because Dean couldn't help himself.

“Your mom was also pretty busy with her soldier gig and your dad never had been the most extroverted person either, am I right?” Charlie wonders.

Dean snorts at that. His dad has been many things, but social hadn't been one of it.

“Yeah, he kept mostly to himself and worked on cars,” Dean agrees. “He had some buddies at his job at the garage and he went out for drinks a couple of times with them, but I've never seen any of them. I highly doubt, though, that he shared many private information with them. That's never been his style.”

“That definitely comes in handy,” Charlie says with a grin. As though his family's unneighborly behavior is a wonderful blessing.

“We're always happy to help,” Dean grumbles.

Charlie merely pats his wrist in a mockingly reassuring manner. “Don't worry, you're all doing great.”

Dean scoffs. “So what do you propose now? Just wait around and hope for the best?”

“The best way to approach this is to discredit the source in the first place,” Charlie recommends. “I already dug around a bit and that former classmate of yours is obviously deep in debt thanks to some bad investments and a nasty divorce. He probably was hoping for some quick bucks by going public. I bet he even only remembers you being with him in school in the first place because he got pathetically drunk one night and started to thumb through his old yearbooks. Trying to go back to the days when he still was popular and not some broke loser …”

“Jeez, Charlie, you don't feel any love for the guy, do you?” Dean can't keep himself from asking. Even though he finds himself relating to all that hostility.

“I'm sorry, but he must've known what he would do to you and 'Steve' by going public like that,” Charlie hisses. “Besides, he kept on cheating on his wife for years and still had the balls to demand sole custody for their kids, most likely because he was hoping for child support by his wealthy ex. Douchebags like that don't deserve any pity from me.”

Dean blinks a few times in surprise. And then he narrows his eyes. “ _How_ do you even know that?”

Charlie smirks. “I have my ways.”

Dean sends another mental memo to himself to never piss her off.

“Nonetheless, the guy's situation plays into our hands,” Charlie says. “Unfortunately the media knows now that you used to go to school in Pontiac 'cause those yearbooks don't lie, but that's about all they're certain of. I turned the personal information about you in the school registry extra private years ago, so we don't have to worry about that. Even if they'd honestly find someone to crack it they wouldn't find much more than your grades anyway. No addresses or parents' names or whatever …”

Dean rubs his temples, trying hard to fight the upcoming headache back with everything he's got.

“Okay, so far they only know for certain I went to school there,” Dean summarizes.

“And conveniently Cas went to another school,” Charlie reminds. “There is nothing obvious that connects you at first.”

Dean grimaces. It's still far from ideal.

“Charlie …”

“Don't worry, Dean,” Charlie says in a soothing tone. “I will try everything to discredit your old classmate. You know me, I've got a bunch of tricks up my sleeve.” She winks at him. “And even if, despite all odds, that shouldn't really work there is thankfully a Harrison _Alley_ one town over. It's the main road and a lot of kids of your former school actually live there, even today. It makes at least for a very good distraction and a far more reasonable target than where you actually lived. They might figure that your old classmate mixed those two up. After all, after over twenty years it's easy to forget stuff, especially things that didn't directly affect you. The media would take _ages_ to go through it all and determine which street is the right one, _if_ they're even in the right area to begin with – in the end they might very well just throw the whole story out of the window out of frustration. Or at least it'd give us enough time to bribe them accordingly and buy their silence with waterproof contracts.”

Dean takes a deep breath.

He knows, from a rational point of view, it doesn't look all that bad. At least not as dark and hopeless as he had assumed when Cas' mother had called and told them about the reporter at her doorstep. There is actually a small chance they might come out of it unscathed, more or less. At least if none of his old neighbors would suddenly remember the Winchester family from two decades ago – but to be fair, Dean doesn't really recall any one of them in return either, so he allows himself to be tentatively optimistic on that front.

So yeah, maybe they might get out of this, despite all odds. Granted, they would have to be extra careful in the future and maybe make sure to cover Cas' tracks as well, at least for the time being, but that doesn't seem like the end of the world in the grand scheme of things.

And yet Dean's brain finds itself spiraling nevertheless. He thinks about everything that might go wrong, about Cas' name popping up in the papers, about his life turned into an utter mess only because of Dean …

He thinks about Ben's terrified face after that paparazzo showed up at his window late at night. He thinks about Lisa yelling and screaming and blaming Dean for everything …

And even though she apologized later for her words, telling him that she was so caught up in her emotions and fear for her son those days after that she had reacted poorly, deep down Dean knew that she had been right all along …

And now, with Cas?

That might even be worse.

“You're not thinking about doing something stupid, are you?” Charlie's voice jerks him out of his reverie again. She is assessing him skeptically, her gaze focused on the expression on Dean's face. “'Cause you look like you're about to do something stupid.”

Dean tries to keep his features neutral as he responds, “Like what?”

“Like breaking things off with Cas to protect him or whatever,” Charlie points out with a scoff.

Dean can't help a grimace at her phrasing. “There is nothing stupid about protecting Cas.”

“Well, okay, generally speaking you're right,” she agrees. “But it'd still be utterly stupid to destroy something amazing only on the off chance you might be caught.”

Dean takes a deep breath and attempts to keep his emotions under control. On first instinct he wants to defend himself fiercely, to bring his point across by raising his voice _because she just can't understand_ , she doesn't know how it feels to drag people into the paparazzi's spotlight and see them suffer for it –

Yes, she's seen it before and also experienced it herself, as someone so close to Dean more than once included in some headlines as well, but it's different with Cas, as it was different with Lisa …

And one day everything might crumble down and people get hurt again.

“Okay, dude, the _Mystery Crush_ story is out there,” Charlie goes on, apparently not eager to back off anytime soon. “Even if you'd dump Cas right here and now and never talk to him again, the media is still desperate to know who he is, they will still keep on digging and maybe eventually find an answer –”

“It's still not the same,” Dean cuts in harshly. “Yeah, they would camp in his front yard for a while or whatever, but the story would become dull very soon without me in the picture. They'd leave Cas alone soon after and that would be it. Sure, Cas would be quite famous for a minute or two and he'd hate that, but soon enough his life would go back to normal. Or at least semi normal.”

Because the press might be eager for new and exciting stories, but they also gravitate to something else quickly as soon as something shinier comes along.

And there is _always_ something shinier.

“But with Cas and me being, um … well, a thing,” Dean continues and can't fight off a blush since it still sounds surreal to his ears, “if the press would discover Cas' identity now it might not take long for them to catch wind of everything else. And then Cas' life would be over as he knows it. At least for _way_ longer than just like a week or something.”

Charlie pulls a face. She seems to get his reasoning, but she is far from happy about it.

Dean certainly can relate because he's not super thrilled about it either.

“And it's not just him,” Dean mutters sadly. “It's Claire and Jack. Cas is a dad, Charlie, and at the end of the day he'll do everything to keep them safe.”

“Dean …”

Dean squeezes his eyes shut and thinks of Ben, the look of terror on his face as that bastard lurked into his window …

Dean seriously doesn't want to see that ever again. He knows it would be easy for him to grow to love Claire and Jack, he's actually already halfway there, and to imagine them ending up in similar position one day, only because of Dean …

Only because Dean was too selfish not to do the right thing when he still had the chance …

“Okay, fine, you're not really wrong here,” Charlie admits finally. “But please promise me one thing.”

“And what's that?”

Charlie squints her eyes. “Whatever you do, don't do anything hasty. _Talk_ with Castiel first, alright? You're both adults in an adult relationship and you should treat it that way.”

Dean presses his lips into a thin line. “Charlie …”

“I _mean_ it, Winchester!” Charlie warns him, lifted finger right in Dean's face and everything. “Don't be that asshole that makes decisions for both of you. I raised you better than that.”

“Well, technically you didn't _raise_ me –”

“Oh please, when I met you you were a stupid playboy ogling every nice ass that walked by,” Charlie objects with a snort. “It took lots of work to shape you into the reasonably fine young man you now are.”

Dean arches his brows. “I was never a _playboy_ –”

“Don't contradict me, honey!” Charlie interrupts once again. “I'm not in the mood for your shenanigans. If I tell you to talk to the boy, you will do that, you hear me?”

Dean grimaces.

If he's being honest with himself he hadn't even decided yet what his next step should be. All he had time for so far was freaking out and cursing himself.

He doesn't want to lose Cas.

But he also doesn't want the guy to hate him at some point.

Dean groans loudly and rubs his temples, wondering once again what he should do.

“Okay, you know what? C'mere.” Charlie spreads her arm widely and signals him with a rise of her eyebrows to come closer. “You clearly need a hug.”

Dean can't help a pout. “I'm not a baby, Charlie –”

She rolls her eyes so hard at him for a second there he fears they might pop out of their sockets. “I know that might be news for a manly macho man like you, but _everyone_ needs a good hug once in a while. _Especially_ constipated manly macho men. Most of you are so fucking touch-starved it's actually the saddest thing –”

“Alright, alright,” Dean grumbles, seriously not in the mood to have this kind of discussion with her. “Don't get your panties in a twist.”

He feels quite reluctant to step closer to her because he'd rather continue to wallow in his misery alone, but he also knows he'd never hear the end of it. So after a moment of hesitation he finally finds himself engulfed by two surprisingly strong arms.

“I'm sorry this is happening to you,” Charlie whispers into his ear. “But everything will be fine, you hear me?”

Dean doesn't really have it in him to believe her, but he nonetheless leans more into the contact. Because, despite himself, it feels good.

“Just promise me to use your head,” she urges him. “Don't do anything rash and stupid. Cas deserves better than that.”

Dean buries his face into her neck and lets himself get lost in the sensation of being held like that.

“You're a good friend,” he mumbles eventually.

Charlie pats his back. “I know, my little darling baby. I know.”


End file.
